Albuquerque, we have a problem
by sfchemist
Summary: Marshall arrives home to find his house occupied and enlists Mary's help in confounding the intruder.
1. The Big Guns

**AN: **This story was started on a whim and ended up taking almost a year to write. And now it is complete, I feel I should add a proper disclaimer:

**I do not own the characters from the show In Plain Sight, the show itself or anything related to it. **

**Spoiler warning: Spoilers for seasons one and two, although departs from canon after Once A Ponzi Time (S2E14).  
**

Now, on with the story...**  
**

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 1 - The Big Guns  
**

Marshall drove down his road planning on how he was going to spend his evening. He was about to pull into his drive when he spotted the car already parked there. He slowed to a crawl and continued down the road past his house before pulling over to where he had a clear view of both the car and the house. Something here wasn't right. He wasn't expecting anyone – the only person that ever showed up unannounced was Mary and he didn't have any other friends. So whose car was that? And where had he seen it before?

Movement caught his eye. A shadow fell across the window blind then moved away.

Marshall reached for his cell phone and checked his weapon while he waited for his partner to answer.

xxx

Mary stood in the local grocery store, pondering the selection of candy available when her phone rang. She stole a quick glance at the caller ID before answering.

"Can you believe they're out of Milk Duds?" Mary asked as a way of greeting.

"Yeah, I've got company." Marshall ignored the irrelevant question, trusting that Mary would get the message.

Mary put down the basket she was carrying, "Where are you?"

"My place," he informed her.

"I'm on my way." She left the store, the basket containing her week's groceries abandoned in the middle of the aisle.

xxx

Marshall saw Mary's car round the corner and pull up near his. He returned his gaze to the wing mirror where he could still see movement in his house. His attention didn't waiver as Mary opened the passenger door and slid in next to him.

"Hey," she acknowledged him.

He glanced in her direction briefly to see her peering out the rear window, weapon already in hand.

"They're in the kitchen," he told her, "I think there's only one of them."

"What do they want? Who are they?"

"I don't know."

"Wanna go find out?" Mary asked with a grin.

They both got out the car and made their way to the front door quickly and quietly.

They paused, flat against the wall either side of the door, weapons held ready. Marshall held up a hand to indicate Mary should wait while he opened the door. He slid the key into the lock as silently as he could and turned it. He nodded to Mary who pushed the door open just as quietly.

Marshall entered first.

He looked around the hallway, but saw no one. He was just about to check the first room when he heard a voice in the kitchen.

He froze.

Mary shot him a puzzled look as she went to push past him, only to get even more confused when his hand shot out and held her back.

"What is it?" she whispered to him.

He shook his head as he holstered his weapon. Mary broke free of his grasp and was about to peer around the corner when Marshall grabbed her round her waist and pulled her back to the doorway.

"Jesus, Marshall!" she hissed.

When she recovered from the surprise of her partner manhandling her, she tried to face him but found he still had a firm hold of her. She was used to Marshall being a bit odd, but this was weird even for him.

She started to worry, just what was in the other room?

What was it that was causing Marshall to act so strange?

What was capable of putting that look of panic on his face?

And what the hell was he doing with his hand?

She looked down to see Marshall running his hand across the front of her jeans.

Mary stared, stunned into inaction. If any other man had her pinned like this and was displaying such a obvious case of wandering hands, he'd have been the recipient of a sharp elbow in the ribs and maybe a broken nose. But this was Marshall and Mary couldn't focus on anything past '_What the hell?_'

Time froze.

She could have been stood there hours for all she knew. In fact it was only a couple of seconds until the groping stopped and was replaced with Marshall sticking his hand into her pocket. He emerged with her engagement ring and stepped away.

Marshall crept forward and peeped round the corner. He glanced over his shoulder at Mary who was still stood in the doorway trying to work out what had just happened. He strolled back to her as she put her weapon away, finally noticing and being reassured by the fact Marshall no longer had his in his hand.

"We're gonna need the big guns for this," he said with a smile, "put this on."

He handed her the ring.

She hesitated for a moment, still perplexed, before slipping the ring on and following him into the kitchen. She reached the kitchen in time to see Marshall hug a tall, dark haired woman. As they broke apart the family resemblance became very apparent.

"Mary, this is my sister, Ellen," Marshall said, turning to face Mary.

Mary shot a puzzled look in Marshall's direction before shaking Ellen's hand. He'd never mentioned a sister. Marshall just gave her a smile. A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. No, his eyes were too busy pleading with Mary. They were silently pleading with her to play along, to go with the flow, to accept his sister without comment.

At least, that's how she interpreted his expression until he said, "Ellen, this is Mary, my fiancée."


	2. Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics

**Spoilers** for _A Frond in Need _and_ Who's Bugging Mary,_ implied spoilers for everything else.

* * *

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 2 – Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics**

Marshall leant against the fridge as he listened to his sister talk about anything and everything. Well, listened in the loosest sense of the word. He smiled and nodded at her occasionally while keeping a close eye on Mary.

Ellen's incessant chatter required little attention to follow, giving Marshall plenty of brain power and more importantly, time with which to come up with an explanation that would prevent Mary from killing him. A full twenty minutes had passed since he had made the fateful introduction.

During that time he had listened to Ellen proclaim that, statistically, December was the best month in which to get married, as it resulted in the fewest number of divorces. He had mentally rejected several implausible excuses for the situation he found himself in. And he had tried to hide his grimace as Ellen declared that her brother had perfect taste in jewelery.

Mary had been unusually quiet since Marshall's declaration of their 'new and improved' relationship status. She had suffered through a rib crushing hug from Ellen with good grace and while she hadn't gone as far as feigning excitement as Ellen admired the ring, she had attempted a half smile.

Mary's confusion and discomfort had been mildly amusing at first, but the longer she allowed the charade to continue the more worried Marshall was becoming. He suspected the only reason he was still alive was because Mary had yet to think of a suitable way to dispose of his body.

He knew at some point he was going to have to explain. He kept telling himself that he was just waiting for a suitable break in the conversation. He had forgotten how much his sister could talk. She was quite happy to carry on a conversation even when she was the only participant and, for the moment, Marshall was happy to let her. He was just surprised that Mary had let her ramble on for this long.

Marshall breathed a sigh of relief as his sister finally excused herself to go to the bathroom. As soon as she was out of the room Marshall walked over to Mary, hands raised in a futile attempt to fend off her death glare and made the snap decision to discard the lies he had come up with and just tell her the truth.

"Mare, I'm so _so_ sorry. I mentioned you to her a while ago. She just assumed when I said 'partner' that you were my _partner _partner and I didn't bother to correct her..."

"Why the hell not!"

"At the time she was going through a phase of setting me up with people. She has terrible taste in women and even worse taste in men," Marshall's eyes glazed over for a moment as he remembered the several, truly horrific, dates he had been tricked into. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Men?"

"Yeah, 'Coz you never know 'til you try' – her words, not mine....Anyway, it saved me a lot of blind dates and awkward conversations, just letting her think we were together."

"You're gonna have to tell her!"

"I know," he admitted.

"I mean it Marshall! I ended up _actually_ engaged to Raph after one fake engagement, I really don't want to end up engaged to you after another!"

Mary added under her breath as she picked her jacket off the counter and turned to leave, "One bigamist in the family is enough."

Marshall watched her leave without comment.

She paused in the doorway and asked over her shoulder, genuinely puzzled, "What is it with men and fake engagements?"

xxx

Marshall swiped his ID card and pushed the door to the office open. His step hitched as he spotted Mary at her desk. He'd known that she had beaten him to the office this morning, but he also knew she would ask about Ellen and he wasn't sure what he was going to tell her yet.

Mary looked up as he reached his desk and placed one of the four coffees he had been carrying down. She lent back in her chair as he brought her coffee over and asked, "Did you tell her?"

Marshall hesitated slightly too long before replying, "Yeah, sure."

"You've told Ellen that we're not engaged?" Mary asked for confirmation.

"Yeah."

"You've told her that we're not, and never have been, a couple?"

"Sure."

Mary peered at him sceptically, "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"Not so much, no," Marshall admitted.

"Marshall!" Mary hissed.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "After you left she started talking about how disappointed her friend Blinky is going to be when she finds out I'm off the market. I just couldn't do it!"

"Blinky?" Mary questioned.

"You know I'd do anything for you, Mare," he told her earnestly. "I'd willingly take a bullet if you asked, but please don't ask me to do this, coz there's no way I'm going to date a woman called Blinky," Marshall explained, handing a paper cup to Eleanor as she walked past him.

"You're dating a woman called Blinky?" Eleanor asked, having only caught the end of the conversation as she opened the filing cabinet behind Marshall.

"No! And I'm not going to! Even if it means I have to spend the next three days inventing reasons why she can't meet Mary," Marshall said with a sigh, assuming Eleanor had heard the entire exchange.

"Wait, Blinky will only go on a date with you if you take Mary?" Eleanor asked puzzled, then added with a smug grin in Mary's direction, "Is she into Extreme Dating or something?"

She was rewarded with a mock glare and returned to her desk satisfied she had won that bout.

"She'd have to be with a name like Blinky." Mary couldn't resisted getting her own dig in, even if it meant aligning herself with Eleanor temporarily.

Marshall ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

Mary took pity on him, "Okay, you can tell Ellen that we're engaged."

Marshall looked at his partner in disbelief, she'd been vehemently against the idea yesterday and now she was willing to go along with his lie just to save him from Blinky? There must be more to it than he was seeing. Yeah, there had to be a catch.

* * *

AN: My apologies to anyone called Blinky.


	3. Aikido? Aikidon't!

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 3 – Aikido? Aiki-don't!**

Mary stared blankly out at the Albuquerque land marks as they flashed past the window of the SUV. What had she been thinking agreeing to let Marshall pretend they were engaged? She replayed the conversation they had had over and over until she could pinpoint the moment she had caved.

"_I'd willingly take a bullet if you asked."_

Yeap, there it was. It was amazing what residual guilt could do.

Marshall was normally happy to drive in silence but today he felt guilty about asking Mary to do something she was clearly uncomfortable with.

"It's not like I planned it, or anything."

He looked over at his partner, who was still staring out the window as he drove.

"And I do appreciate it, Mare. You know if I had any other friends, I'd've ask them." He glanced over at her again. No response. "It was just chance that you happened to be there _and_ have an engagement ring on you. Pure chance. Coincidence."

Still no response. He indicated as he made a left turn into his witness' drive.

He carried on regardless, "Although some may say fate had a hand in it. I don't. It was just a fluke. A happy accident. It's not the universe's way of conspiring against you."

"Wanna bet?" Mary muttered as she undid her seatbelt.

"Well, that would require the admission that there is a higher power. And that He hates you but seems to like me."

Mary narrowed her eyes in annoyance as she got out the car and walked up the path to the witness' house.

Marshall followed a couple of paces behind her, chanting in a sing-song voice, "I'm God's favourite. Na Na Na Na-na!"

xxx

Amy (real name Addison) watched the two US Marshals walk up the path, she smiled as she saw Mary reach behind and slap Marshall on the arm without looking at him or breaking stride. Amy wondered what he had done to deserve that punishment as she watched him rub his arm in mock pain.

Amy reached the front door before the Marshals and threw it open to greet them. Mary ran the last few steps and blocked Amy with her body, just in case.

"Amy, how many times do I have to tell you, not to open the door without checking who it is?" Mary asked the young woman as she hustled her back into the house.

"But I saw you coming up the drive," she pouted at Mary while she simultaneously contorted to smile at Marshall as he trailed behind the two women.

"That's not the point," Mary sighed.

It was going to be a long day.

xxx

Mary sat in the passenger seat of the SUV as Marshall drove down Route 84 toward Lubbock, their designated lunch stop. Amy was sat in the back, although she was sitting so far forward, she may as well have been in the front with them. That was just one more thing that was grating on Mary's nerves this morning. The main problem, though, was that Amy was laughing and chatting with Marshall as he described some of the pranks he and his sister had got up to as children.

Mary pretended disinterest in the conversation that had begun as Marshall's attempt to calm the nerves of their young witness as they drove her back to Houston and the leaders of the prostitution ring that Amy had agreed to testify against.

Really, Mary was fascinated by this glimpse into Marshall's childhood. She still didn't know why he had never told her that he had a sister. She wanted to ask but stubbornly refused to, too hurt by Marshall's willingness to tell their witness, a relative stranger, all the details that she secretly longed to hear.

"So you're going to pretend to be married?" Amy asked, turning to Mary and drawing her out of her introspection.

"What? No! Geez, Marshall did you have to tell her...?"

"I think it's sweet. It's like a love story," Amy broke in, excited at the prospect of a romance between her two WITSEC inspectors.

Mary stared at the woman, who was bouncing up and down in excitement. How could a woman that had done the things she had done, seen the things she had seen, be so innocent? Why wasn't she as jaded as Mary when it came to relationships? And did she just say 'married'?

"We're not pretending to be married. I never agreed to that," Mary told Marshall, "All I said was you didn't have to tell your sister the truth. I didn't agree to any role playing." She grimaced at her choice of words, fully expecting her partner to twist them.

"Ah...Come on, Mare. It could be fun," Marshall grinned at Mary. "Plus, it'd be good practise for when you're married to Raph."

"No."

"Suit yourself," Marshall shrugged.

"And I don't need to practise being married to Raph. We're living together. That's enough practise. I certainly don't need to practise with _you_!"

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much." Marshall flicked his eyes toward Mary.

"What?" Mary all but squeaked. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

Marshall glanced at Mary before returning his attention to the road and proclaiming, "I believe it was Morihei Ueshiba that said 'We never attack. An attack is proof that one is out of control.'"

"Oh God! Now what have you read?" Mary muttered.

"Morrie who?" Amy asked, confused.

"Morihei Ueshiba, the founder of Aikido," he told Amy over his shoulder before adding as an aside to Mary, "It was in 'The Art of Peace'."

"Oh." Amy lost interest in what Marshall was talking about, more interested in the previous topic. She turned to Mary, "So what happens if you _just happen_ to run into his sister? Will you pretend to be married then?"

"She only thinks we're _engaged_, Amy."

"Yeah, but what will you do? How far will you go to convince her? Will you hold hands? Will you kiss? Oh, oh! Will it be like in _Green Card_? You know, when they keep testing each other on their likes and dislikes and then they fall in love for real at the end?"

"No, it's really not going to be like that. For a start, there won't be any kissing! And I don't need to _learn_ Marshall's likes and dislikes, he's my best friend!"

"Did you hear that, Marshall? She didn't rule out holding hands!" Amy clapped like an excited five year old.

"I'm more interested in the fact that she thinks she knows me well enough to convince my sister that we're a couple," Marshall told Amy with a knowing smile.

"What? You don't think I know you well enough to pass as your fiancée?"

"No, I do not."

"No?"

"No!"

There was silence as they stared at each other for a moment before Marshall had to break eye contact to focus on the road.

"Wanna bet?" Mary asked, desperate to get the last word in.

Marshall stared at the road, turning the idea over in his mind. A slow smile crept across his face.

"Sure, why not?"


	4. The Devil's in the Details

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 4 – The Devil's in The Details**

Mary sat next to Marshall in the courtroom's public gallery. They had delivered their witness uneventfully to the stand and she was just being sworn in.

Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat, inching closer to Marshall as she did so. This was the first time they had been alone together since she had suggested that ridiculous bet and Marshall had accepted, almost 24 hours ago.

24 Hours in which she had tried every method of persuasion she knew, except one, to get Marshall to tell her just what the bet entailed and what the terms where. 24 Hours in which, every time she brought the subject up, Marshall would just smile enigmatically and say, "I'm thinking about it," or, "I don't know, I haven't decided yet."

24 Hours with Amy giving him helpful hints, her ideas getting more outrageous each time. Yet not even his reaction to these suggestions had given Mary any idea as to what she had let herself in for, as Marshall greeted each scheme with a smile and a look in his eye that only served to encourage Amy and make Mary more worried.

She had been kept awake all night, unable to stop thinking about the problem. A situation that wasn't helped in the slightest, by the fact she was sharing a room with Amy who spent the entire night talking about the stupid bet. It was, as she lay awake in the early hours of the morning, that she had decided that the entire idea was ridiculous and she would just have to find a way out of it.

Mary shifted again, earning her a reproving glare from Marshall as he tried to pay attention to the proceedings.

She leant closer to her partner and whispered, "I didn't mean that I..."

"Shhh!" Marshall hushed her, his eyes never leaving the courtroom drama unfolding in front of them.

Mary glanced around looking to see is she was disturbing anyone else. From what she could see everybody else was listening to Amy as she detailed her life and how she was enticed into working in one of the Harmond brothers' brothels.

A few minutes later she tried again, "It's just that..."

"Shhh!"

Not to be deterred, "I just wanna know...."

Marshall fixed her with a piercing stare, "Mare, do I talk through your witnesses' testimony?" he asked.

Mary narrowed her eyes and gave him a dirty look, but sat back and paid attention to what Amy was saying.

xxx

The return journey to Albuquerque wasn't proving to be much quicker than the trip to Houston. In fact it seemed much longer. Mary was driving, but refused to let Marshall sleep, stating that it was his job to make sure she didn't fall asleep at the wheel as it was his fault she hadn't slept the previous night. She wasn't making his job easy though, as she was also refusing to talk to him any more than was absolutely necessary.

Marshall had spent the three hours from Houston to Dallas talking about the history of Houston, the design of the Chase Tower, why Leipzig, Germany was an ideal sister city for Houston and anything else he could think of to draw Mary out of her silence, all the while avoiding the one topic he knew she wanted to discuss.

As they approached Dallas, he changed the topic to the best way to prepare barbecue ribs and why they should always be served with a frozen margarita.

Half an hour past Fort Worth, Marshall finally gave up on the trivia.

At some point Amy had fallen asleep in the back. He decided to let her sleep in peace. From Mary's account the young woman had been too nervous to sleep the previous night and had talked Mary's ears off in an attempt to distract herself from the upcoming trial. She deserved the rest. Plus with Mary's continued brooding, Marshall had the chance to think through the terms of the bet without any interruptions.

About an hour out of Abilene Marshall finally decided he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"So, here's what I'm thinking," he said quietly, so as not to wake Amy. "Ellen's here for five more days. If, when she leaves, she hasn't questioned our relationship, you win. If at any point during her stay she attempts to set me up with someone, I win."

Mary considered his proposal as she drove.

"Okay," she finally agreed. "But there have to be ground rules!"

"Such as?"

"You can't tell her that we're not.....you know," she specified, all reservations about lying about the nature of her's and Marshall's relationship forgotten in her desire to prove how well she knew her partner.

"Agreed. But you have to act like we're a couple," Marshall clarified.

"Okay. And you can't tell anyone else. Especially Stan and Eleanor," Mary countered.

"That's understandable."

They both lapsed into silence as they considered what they were agreeing to.

"You know," Marshall began tentatively, "you'll probably have to spend a night or two at my house."

He looked over at Mary, who was suddenly very focused on the road.

"It'd look odd for us to be engaged but never spend the night together," he continued, watching Mary carefully for any reaction.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, before Mary replied, "We could say we don't believe in sex before marriage."

Marshall chuckled, "She'd never buy that. She knows me too well. And even if she did buy it, she'd spend every minute of every day telling us why it's a bad idea."

They drove a while longer as Mary considered her options, weighing up how much she wanted to win against the obstacles she'd have to overcome to do so. Marshall looked out the window, wondering if he had pushed a little too far.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear Mary ask, "What'll I tell Raph?"


	5. O Sister, Where Art Thou?

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 5 – O Sister, Where Art Thou?**

They pulled into a motel not long after Mary had agreed to Marshall's terms. The trial had run longer than expected, so they weren't as close to home as they'd hoped to be by now, forcing them to spend another night on the road. Mary left Marshall in the car while she went to check in and do a security sweep, trusting that he would call Stan and inform him of their change of plans. Marshall caught up with Mary as she was talking to the clerk and indicated that Stan would only okay two rooms for the night. Mary sighed, not looking forward to another night sharing a room with Amy and her chatty ways.

The following morning Marshall drove the remaining stretch to Albuquerque. Mary dozed lightly in the passenger seat and Amy sat in the back, Marshall keeping a close watch on her as she was unusually quiet, lost in her thoughts. They reached Albuquerque before lunch and dropped their witness off.

Mary stood, impatiently, on the doorstep of Amy's house while Marshall reminded her that the threat on her life hadn't disappeared just because she had testified and she still needed to take precautions. Amy grinned and winked him as she reminded him of her former profession and made a bad joke about working girls and 'precautions'. Mary rolled her eyes in exasperation and stalked of towards the SUV.

Marshall shook his head, either at his partner's response or at the rather obvious attempt at flirting with him, Amy couldn't tell, but her comment had achieved the desired result.

As Marshall turned to leave Amy grabbed his arm and held him back, shooting a quick glance in Mary's direction before saying, "You know that she has nightmares, don't you?"

Marshall looked at the young woman and saw the concern in her eyes for his partner.

"No. I did not," he admitted.

"I just though you should know....I don't know what they're about, but it seemed pretty bad last night."

She looked at Marshall and suddenly he could see behind the innocent, outgoing mask she always wore, to the woman who had seen and done things that no nineteen year old should and was haunted by them.

"I thought you should know," she whispered, looking guiltily at the floor as she revealed someone else's secret.

He nodded at her, acknowledging her concerns and silently reassuring her that he would take care of it.

Mary yelled, from the car, for him to hurry up. Marshall glanced over his shoulder at his partner before looking back at Amy. He started walking backwards towards the car so that Mary wouldn't see him mouth, "Thank you," to Amy. She smiled at him, mask firmly back in place. He turned and jogged the remaining few steps to the SUV, not wanting to keep Mary waiting.

Amy smiled and waved as Mary started the engine, backed out the drive and turned towards the office.

xxx

Mary returned home that afternoon after having helped Marshall fill out the paperwork associated with transporting a witness and an additional expenses claim for the motel last night. She was greeted by the sight of her front room filled with flowers.

"What the...!" she muttered as she dropped her bag on the floor and walked through the room to the kitchen.

There were flowers everywhere, they covered the coffee table, there was an arrangement of the trailing variety on top of the TV. When all the clear horizontal surfaces in the room had been covered, the architect of this floral invasion had resorted to putting them on the floor.

Mary wound her way through the mess, stepping over a larger bouquet of lilies and something pink that she didn't recognise. She couldn't see cards with any of the flowers, but counted at least fourteen separate arrangements, all from different florists.

She finally achieved her goal of the kitchen only to have her puzzlement increase. On the worktop sat six, half eaten cakes.

She stood in the middle of the chaos that was her house and just stared in wonder.

She unclipped her cell phone from her waistband and dialled Marshall's number.

"Why would someone get fourteen bouquets of flowers?" she asked as soon as he picked up.

"Have you had a death in the family?" he suggested.

Mary heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and Brandi's voice on the other side of the door, "I think I'm about to..."

She hung up and waited for her sister.

"Hey, Mary," Brandi greeted her as she entered the room with Raph in tow.

"Hi, you're home early," Raphael said.

Mary ignored their greetings, "Can either of you tell me what the hell is going on here? It looks like Barbie threw up in here!" she waved her hand, indicating the overwhelmingly pink selection of flowers cushioned on clouds of baby's breath.

"Don't you like it?" Brandi asked, slightly hurt.

"Brandi and I ordered some samples for the wedding," Raphael explained, grinning happily.

Bandi leapt over several arrangements to get to the kitchen, "It's all free!" she told her sister, thinking that was why she was upset. "And we got some cakes too, here try some!" She waved a forkful of sticky mess in front of Mary's face.

Mary pushed her away and turned to Raph, "Were you planning to ask me about any of this? Or were you and my sister just going to plan my wedding without me? Were you just gonna tell me where and when to show up? Jesus, Raph!"

Mary stalked off into her room, hoping there would be no wedding paraphernalia in there. She sat on her bed and considered what she should do. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back onto the bed. If she stayed here she could imagine how the rest of her evening would be spent. She'd get no peace and quiet here with Brandi and Raph discussing wedding arrangements, trying to draw her into a conversation she really didn't care about. All she really wanted was to spend a quiet night in front of the TV until she could no longer keep her eyes open, then fall into bed and hopefully sleep straight through until 7 am.

Without realising it she got up and started moving round her room. Raph had followed her to the bedroom door and watched as she threw several changes of clothes into a bag.

"Mary, I'm sorry," he began, making her jump. She ignored him and carried on with her packing. "Of course I was going to ask you, but if I wait until you are here before we make any decision, we'll never get married. I was just trying to narrow down th..."

"What do you mean? 'If you wait 'til I'm here'? What are you trying to say Raph?" Mary cut in.

"You're never here, you're always at work. You've just come back from somewhere you can't tell me and now you're leaving again," he indicated her frantic packing.

Mary stopped packing to glare at Raph, "You know I can't tell you..." she began.

"I know and I didn't ask, it's just...can't someone else to the travelling part?"

Mary could only stare at him in disbelief.

xxx

Marshall opened the door and called, "O sister, where art thou?"

Ellen appeared in the hallway and watched as he closed the door behind him and threw his overnight bag into the corner.

"You know, that film was based on Homer's _The Odyssey_," she told him.

"No, I didn't know that." She cocked an eyebrow at him. He explained with a shrug, "I've never seen it."

"You should, it's a good film. Plus it's got George Clooney in it."

"Yeah, that's always a big draw for me," he said, sarcastically to his sister's back as she retreated down the hall.

He followed her into the kitchen. Ellen was busy peeling potatoes at the sink. Marshall opened the fridge and took a moment to admire the range of fresh produce in there before pouring a drink for himself and one for Ellen.

They spent a while discussing the Greek classics while Ellen made dinner. From there the conversation drifted to politics, both modern and ancient, then back to films they had seen or books they had read. Over dinner they caught up on the family gossip that they hadn't covered the first night.

At no point did either of them mention their professional lives. The closest they came was when Ellen asked, "How was your trip?"

Marshall replied, "Fine."

Ellen regarded her brother steadily for a moment before accepting his answer at face value. They had both been raised not to ask too many questions when it came to specifics of their family members' jobs.

Ellen changed the subject back to neutral territory, launching into a detailed description of a museum she had visited in Belgium, dedicated to the history of fries.

Marshall was half way through detailing the life and times of Sir Walter Raleigh, when the door bell rang.

Marshall wasn't expecting anyone but could guess who it was. He jumped off the sofa, flashed a smile at Ellen and rushed to the door. He opened it to see Mary stood on the other side, a bag slung over her shoulder.

"So, about that bet..." she said as Marshall swung the door open wide and gestured for her to come in.


	6. Baa Baa Black Sheep?

_Previously: __"So, about that bet..." Mary said, as Marshall swung the door open wide and gestured for her to come in._

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 6 - Baa Baa Black Sheep?**

Marshall took the bag from Mary's shoulder and picked up the bag he had left in the corner earlier, opening the door to his bedroom and putting them both on the bed. Mary loitered in the hall, waiting for him.

"So, has anybody I know died? Do you need help hiding the body?" Marshall asked, referring to the phone call from a few hours ago.

"A few florists may have died of exhaustion, but you don't need to break out your best shovel just yet."

"Okay. Do I want to know any more?"

Mary tilted her head, "Probably not," she conceded.

She followed Marshall into the living room where Ellen was still sat, an empty dinner plate on the table in front of her.

Ellen stood and cleared the plates, she called back over her shoulder, "Have you eaten, Mary?"

"Yeah, I've had several kinds of cake for dinner,"

"That's not very healthy, I'll find you something sensible," Ellen proclaimed.

"No, that's okay, Ellen, I'm not that hu..." Mary tried to stop her, but Ellen just ignored her and continued into the kitchen.

Marshall shook his head, "Don't bother. She likes to cook. You've got no chance of talking her out of it."

Mary collapsed onto the sofa next to Marshall. They sat staring at the blank TV in silence, happy just to sit and relax in each other's company.

Finally Mary asked, "So, how come you never told me you have a sister?"

"I...err..." Marshall still hadn't come up with a suitable reason as to why he'd left that piece of information out of his conversations with Mary, "Ummm..."

"I'm kinda the black sheep of the family." Ellen told her, having overheard the question as she re-entered the room, "I ran off to join a hippy commune at eighteen. And I've spent the last six years living in Belgium. And for the life of me, I don't know which of those two facts causes my family the most embarrassment."

Ellen smiled at her brother and returned to the kitchen. Marshall avoided her eyes and picked at a loose thread on the arm of the sofa. He was grateful that she'd bailed him out, but wasn't thrilled about her telling Mary her standard story as to why his family didn't talk about Ellen much.

Mary narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. Something didn't sound right. She knew Marshall really well after partnering him for nearly four years. Sure, there were things she didn't know, but she knew him well enough to know that he wasn't the sort of person to disown a family member for something so trivial. Still, she had the entire evening to get the truth out of Marshall.

Ellen arrived back, carrying a tray laden with sandwiches and a selection of hot and cold nibbles. Marshall groaned at the sight of so much food after a substantial dinner. The fact he was full didn't stop him, however, from reaching for some of the food on the table.

"So, Mary, what first attracted you to my brother?" Ellen asked the first of many questions she had been dying to ask since she first met her brother's fiancée three days ago.

xxx

Mary surveyed the room, taking in the details before returning to glower at the bed. Marshall was in the bathroom getting changed. The evening had been a new experience for Mary. An evening of pleasant conversation with no shouting, accusations or snide remarks. Nobody got drunk and there was no drama and no arguments. Just friendly chat interspersed with the usual insults flying back and forth between Mary and Marshall which Ellen even managed to join in with, after observing the two of them for a while.

She'd been enjoying the evening until it was time to call it a night. Now she found herself standing in Marshall's bedroom, not entirely sure what she was doing there. The bed seemed to be leering at her. Taunting her. Any minute now, Marshall was going to come out of the bathroom and expect her to get into bed with him. And the bed knew it.

She glared at it some more.

xxx

Marshall looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. He was nervous. In the adjoining room Mary was waiting for him. He had imagined how this night would go so many times, yet now that he was here, facing the reality of it, he had no idea how he was going to handle it. For an instant he regretted making the stupid bet. This could only end badly, it was obvious, so why hadn't he seen that before?

He sighed and turned on the faucet, the cool water splashing into the basin. He quickly finished his evening ritual and changed into the sweats and t-shirt he was planning on sleeping in. It was time to bite the bullet.

He looked at his reflection once more and opened the door into his bedroom. Mary stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed with a strange look on her face.

"Do you want the left or the right?" Marshall asked.

"Huh?" Mary turned to him, surprised by his sudden appearance.

"Which side of the bed do you want?" he asked again, seeing he was getting no response, he continued, "I normally sleep on the side nearest the door." Mary looked up, "You know, just in case..."

"Yeah, me too," Mary acknowledged quietly, her eyes fixed on a patch of the rug as she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Mary stared at the floor. Marshall stared at Mary, thinking she looked beautiful with her hair down and in her sleeveless top and cotton shorts. Then Marshall realised he was staring and dragged his eyes away and pretended to find the picture on the wall fascinating.

He coughed, "Well, if you wanna take the night off from..." he gestured to the door which, in both their worlds, was something that needed guarding throughout the night, "I don't mind."

Mary snapped her attention to him and saw him smile slightly at the absurdity of the situation.

"How many couples, do you think, discuss who guards the door at night?" she mused, then realising what she had just said, added hastily, "Not that we're a couple."

Marshall chuckled but made no move towards the bed.

Mary put her hand on her hip and tilted her head to regard Marshall while she considered his offer. Was she willing to give up her position in the bed? In her mind it wasn't just a question of where she sleep but a symbol of her position and role in the relationship. The person who slept nearest the door was the protector, placing their body between their partner and anyone coming through the door. She'd never in a thousand years let Raph or any of the other guys she'd spent the night with, have that position. No way would she could she trust them act as her shield and there was no way she could protect them while on the other side of the bed.

Marshall seemed to read her thoughts as he said, "I could use someone to guard the window."

Mary walked over to the window and looked out, making a show of analysing the area for possible threats. Marshall leant against the wall, grinning at her display, quietly content to wait for her to make her own mind up as to whether or not she trusted him enough to let him protect her while she slept.

Mary turned away from the window slowly, "It _is_ ridiculously easy to get in through the window," she noted.

She returned to the bed and picked up her jeans from where she had thrown them. Underneath was her weapon, she opened the draw of the bedside table nearest the window and put the gun in but didn't close the draw all the way. Marshall copied her action on, what was now, his side of the bed.

He pulled the covers back, switched the bedside lamp on and went to turn the main light off. When he returned Mary was sitting up in bed watching him. He slid in next to her and reminded himself that this was all an act. Mary wasn't his girlfriend, she was engaged to Raph and as much as he wanted to kiss her goodnight, he couldn't.

Mary shifted down the bed a little then punched the pillow a couple of times. She yanked the covers to get them in a position that was more comfortable for her, unwittingly stealing some from Marshall. She could feel Marshall watching her as she fidgeted and turned over more aggressively than was necessary, trying to get the feel of the strange bed.

Marshall smiled as he watched her finally settle for laying on her side with her back to him. He gently gathered up the section of the covers that Mary had discarded and stretched them out over himself. He contemplated turning the light out, but decided to first tackle the issue that had been plaguing him since this morning.

Mary was laying with her eyes closed, wondering if Marshall was ever going to turn the light out and whether she could be bothered to say anything about it, when she heard him say, "So...Do you wanna talk about the nightmares?"

She opened her eyes, but didn't turn as she snapped, "No."

"Okay," he responded, "But if I wake up to find you've killed me during the night coz you can't tell the difference between me and imaginary nightmare assassins, or whatever the hell you dream about, I'm not gonna be happy."

Mary felt a smile cross her lips, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you live to see morning. Unless of course you can't keep you hands to yourself, in which case all bets are off," she told him jokingly.

Marshall snickered even though he knew she was only half joking. He turned the light off and settled down for what was either going to be the longest night of his life or a night that would pass far too quickly for his liking.


	7. A New Day Has Dawned

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 7 – A New Day Has Dawned**

Marshall woke up slowly. His brain came awake first, with the usual incomprehension that it had when he woke up naturally after a good night's sleep. His mouth felt like something furry had crawled into it and died, making him wonder if he had been drinking the night before. It took him a second to realise that no, the feeling wasn't a precursor to a hangover, but was, actually, the result of him having a mouthful of hair.

Well, that was new.

He opened one eye a crack and saw a curtain of blond hair in front of him. Then it all came flooding back to him. Mary. The bet. Ellen. Yesterday's witness. His witness' concerns for his partner. His partner. His partner, who was currently fast asleep in his bed. In his arms.

As his brain kicked into gear he took note of the position he and Mary had ended up in, both laying on their sides, Marshall pressed up against Mary's back, obviously for warmth as Mary had half the covers and the floor on her side of the bed had the other half.

Marshall couldn't resist a chuckle at the fact he had been deprived of the covers, what else should he have expected? The chuckle quickly turned into a cough as it required taking a breath, a breath that was seriously hampered by the mouthful of hair. He tried to free his hand, to brush away the hair, but found it immobilised in Mary's vice-like grip. It was then he realised that his arm was encircling Mary's waist and was being held in place by Mary herself.

He was loathed to move but really couldn't enjoy the moment with Mary's hair tickling the back of his throat every time he inhaled. He moved his head as far away from Mary as he could without disturbing their position too much and quietly spat out the offending hair. He used his chin to brush away the loose hair on Mary's shoulder hoping that his morning stubble wouldn't wake her. He stared at her bare shoulder, revelling in the sight, before pulling her close, settling his head on the newly cleared patch of skin and closing his eyes.

Next time he'd ask Mary to sleep with her hair tied back.

xxx

Mary woke to a scratching sensation on her back. She was instantly awake and instantly irritated. Jesus, what childhood trauma had given Raph such an aversion to razors? Did the man never shave?

She opened her eyes, ready to throw off the restricting arm and get on with her day, when she remembered she wasn't at home. The blue and grey striped curtains attested to that. She slid out from under the arm and turned to lay on her back. She looked to her right to see Marshall and her irritation faded away. She lay staring at the ceiling, contemplating the day ahead of her when she heard Marshall mutter something about needing to contact Interpol.

She looked over at him again, surprised and not a little amused to see he was still asleep and not consciously reminding himself what he had to do today. She smiled fondly and extracted some of her hair from under his hand, her partner was such a geek. He even dreamt about work.

Mary inched out of bed so as not to disturb him, but promptly got her feet tangled in the pile of bed covers on the floor. She caught herself on the opposite wall in time to prevent herself from falling. She turned to see if her unorthodox method of getting out of bed and the attendant curses had woken Marshall. She wasn't surprised to see his piercing blue eyes staring back at her.

"That was elegant," he said.

"Shut up," she muttered without heat as she gingerly untangled her feet from the sheets.

"And I have to say you only have yourself to blame," he shifted so he was propped up on his elbow and could get a good look at the dishevelled woman before him, "You do realise the covers are for the bed and not the floor, don't you? And that, when they're on the bed, they're intended to be shared?" he asked with a glint of humour in his eyes.

"Funny, jackass," Mary picked the covers up and threw them at his head.

He laughed, "Finally, I get my sheets back."

Mary smiled at his reaction as she made her way into the bathroom.

xxx

Ellen wasn't up by the time both the US Marshals were ready to leave for work. Marshall shrugged off Mary's enquiry with the simple explanation that she was on holiday and didn't need to get up. As they made their way to their cars, Mary tried once more to find out what Ellen did for a living. Marshall focused on unlocking the car door as he told her that Ellen never kept a job for more than a couple of months and he honestly didn't know what she was doing at the moment.

They took separate cars to work. Marshall drove behind Mary for most of the way, more as an exercise in pursuit driving than from any real need. Mary pulled into the car park first and was surprised when Marshall didn't pull in next to her. She figured he'd got held up at one of the sets of lights she had cut fine, then headed up to the office.

She was just beginning to regret the lack of breakfast this morning when the elevator doors opened on level eight. She stepped off the elevator, already searching her back pocket for her ID card. She swiped it through the scanner, entered the office and greeted Eleanor and Stan as she walked past Stan's office. They exchanged a look at Mary's unusually civil tone.

"Hey, Mary?" Stan called, "Have you seen Marshall this Morning?"

Mary's eyes jerked up from where she was watching her computer boot up and glared suspiciously at Stan.

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to work out how he had found out so quickly and gauge just how much he knew.

"Well, he's normally here before you. I just wondered if you'd heard from him this morning," Stan explained, concerned by Mary's reluctance to tell him what was going on. She was often secretive when she was doing something for a witness that wasn't in the WITSEC rule book. At least not in any copy of the book _he'd_ been given.

"Perhaps he had a hot date last night," Eleanor suggested. She had noticed Mary's unusual reaction and had a hunch what could be causing it, so she couldn't resist having a little dig.

"What? That hair-brained, too tall, good for nothing, font of useless knowledge? I don't think so," Mary scoffed.

"Did someone say my name?" Marshall asked as he came through the security gate, carrying four coffees and a bag that obviously contained his breakfast.

Mary eyed the bag enviously.

He put the bag down on his desk and handed the coffees out to their respective drinkers.

"Did you want me?" he asked Stan.

"No, I was just planning for the apocalypse after Mary got here first this morning."

Mary pulled a face at him.

Marshall smirked, "I stopped for breakfast on my way in."

Mary chose that moment to dive for the bag. Marshall snatched it out of her reach and held it up above his head where she couldn't get it. Mary jumped, trying to grab it but Marshall kept turning, so that, his body was between her and his outstretched arm. He pushed her away with his right hand, bag still safe in his left, but Mary kept up her attack.

"Children," Marshall heard Stan mutter as he returned to his office.

He smirked down at Mary, who was now standing with her hands on her hips glaring at him, "If you're a good girl, play nice and say please, I _may_ share," he told her in a patronising tone.

Mary slinked back to her desk, muttering under her breath and unwilling to cave. Eleanor smiled at him across the room before returning to read whatever was on her computer screen. Now that he had some peace in which to eat his breakfast, Marshall sat down, opened the bag and took out the bagel he had chosen. He laid it out on his desk along with a pot of cream cheese, all the while ignoring the pitiful looks Mary was casting in his direction. Once he had extracted all the components of his breakfast, he closed the bag back up and threw it in Mary's direction.

He was rewarded with a genuine smile before she snatched it out the air and applied herself to devouring the remaining bagel, which was, coincidentally, her favourite.


	8. Calling Occupants of InterplanetaryCraft

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 8 – Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft**

It was mid-morning when Stan emerged from his office with a folder in his hand. He waved the two Marshals into the conference room and laid the paperwork out on the desk. He passed the file to Mary and watched as Marshall grabbed the top sheet, stuck his tongue out at Mary then ignored her as he read the summary.

"Matthew Long," Stan began briefing his two inspectors, "A computer programmer from LA, he got involved with a gang that were using bank robberies as a diversion while he hacked the bank's server and stole financial data. That is, until it went wrong and an FBI agent got shot. Matthew agreed to testify and...well, you know the rest."

"And the ADA was happy with that?" Mary asked, knowing how the district attorneys liked to prosecute when it came to high profile cases where an agent or cop died.

"Let's just say, he was happier with our guy out on the street than his associates," Stan hinted at the backroom politics.

"Okay, well we don't have to pick him up for a couple of hours, I'll start setting things up, Marshall you do the threat assessment."

Marshall was staring at his sheet of paper, a strange look on his face. He didn't hear Mary's instruction.

Mary balled up a piece of paper and threw it at his head, "Marshall!"

"Is there a problem?" Stan asked when Marshall looked up.

"This guys new name is Michael Ledgewood?" he asked.

Stan and Mary exchanged looks, clearly puzzled.

"Yeah?" Stan agreed.

"Mike Ledgewood?" Marshall asked as though whatever problem he had with it should be obvious.

"Yeah. Why?" Stan asked.

"As in 'All Hits Radio'?" Marshall received blank looks from both Mary and Stan, he put on an over-the-top DJ voice, "I've got Mike Ledgewood on the phone, hey babe, what would like to hear?"

Stan and Mary stare at him as if he had grown another head.

"You know, Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft?" He was still only getting blank looks from his colleagues, "The Carpenter's song? You must know it!"

"Nope, sorry, doofus. You're on your own with that one," Mary said as she gathered up the paperwork, happy to pass the conversation off as Marshall being Marshall.

"Ellen would get it," Marshall muttered as he handed his page to her.

"Who's Ellen?" Stan asked, casually.

Marshall shot a look at Mary, who was just about to answer. He hastily cut her off, "Just someone I used to know."

He shot Mary another look, daring her to correct him. She stared at him, amazed at his lie. Stan looked between the pair of them and decided discretion was the better part of valour and let the subject drop.

As the three of them left the conference room, Mary made a mental note to try and get her hands on Marshall personal record and have a dig into his background. She'd seen the file years ago when he was first assigned as her partner, but hadn't thought it would be worth memorising as she hadn't, at that point, expected him to last long. Maybe she could persuade Eleanor to do some digging as well. As irritating as she was, she certainly knew her way around background research.

As she made the note, she was reminded of the mental note she had made earlier.

"Hey, Marshall, don't forget to contact Interpol," she reminded him.

"W-what?" he stuttered, "What for? Why?" He started rapidly shuffling papers, looking for something that he would need to contact Interpol about.

"I don't know, you just said you needed to contact Interpol," Mary said, frowning as she watched his slightly flustered response.

"What about?" he asked, still confused, "When did I say that?"

Mary opened her mouth to answer him, then remembered where and when she had heard him say it. She snapped her mouth shut, realising that Stan and Eleanor were listening to their conversation.

"Mare?" Marshall prompted.

"This morning," she muttered as she let her hair fall over her face so no one could see she was blushing. Knowing that Marshall would still be looking at her, waiting for an answer, she added, "Never mind."

"Okay," Marshall agreed, knowing when to drop the subject.

xxx

An hour and a half later, Mary had picked a motel to stash her newest witness in until a more permanent place was sorted. Marshall had arranged for a security detail and they were both ready to go and pick up Mike, as he was to now be known.

Stan was more than a little relieved when they left to meet the witness. There had been a weird atmosphere in the office all morning. It wasn't anything he could put his finger on, there had just been moments when he had felt like he was missing something. Or, more accurately, something was being kept from him. But the moment he got close to putting a name to the feeling, or he was about to ask his inspectors what they were up to, the phenomenon was gone and his inspectors were back to their usual tricks. The capricious mood was more wearying than when Mary was in an all-out bad mood. At least then he knew where he stood, normally he just stood as far away as possible until she had calmed down. But today was different and he didn't like it.

And to make matters worse, Marshall had been singing about aliens all morning.

Once the doors of the elevator closed on the two bickering inspectors, Stan turned to Eleanor and asked, "Are they acting particularly odd today?"

"Uh-ha," she agreed.


	9. Title to Come

**Spoilers **for _Once a Ponzi Time_

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 9 – Title to Come**

Mary and Marshall spent the ride down in the elevator bickering over where to eat lunch once the witness was safely ensconced in his motel room. They exited at the back of the building so they could pick up a SUV from the lot. As they pulled out of the parking lot, one of the uncomfortable silences that had been bugging Stan all morning, descended over them.

Now that they were alone in the car, Marshall felt it was finally safe to ask, "So, what did you tell Raph? Where does he think you were last night?"

Mary looked over at her partner for a long time before retuning her eyes to the road and answering in a small voice, "At work."

"Have you told him what's...?" Marshall couldn't think how to phrase the question, unsure exactly what answer he wanted, "...Does he know...?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Marshall! I haven't told him any details. I just told which branch of the marshal service I'm employed by!"

Marshall stared sullenly out the window.

They came to a halt at the next set of traffic lights. Mary lent her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

"I caught him looking up WITSEC on Google," she breathed.

"What!" Marshall said in a tightly controlled voice as he turned to look at his partner.

"I gave him a book, the Pete Earley/Gerald Shur one," she told him hurriedly, relieved to finally tell him.

"Mary!" Marshall hissed, "What on Earth were you thinking?"

"I thought if he knew more about what I did, he wouldn't keep asking questions. And I wouldn't have to keep lying to him. And nothing in that book is classified," she added defensively. She shrugged, the fight gone out of her, "I just though it would help."

"Has it?" Marshall asked, genuinely curious.

"No," she admitted, "Yesterday he asked if someone else could do the travelling part of my job. He doesn't understand."

Marshall could see she was clearly upset by Raphael's failure to grasp how important Mary's job was to her.

He was torn between wanting to comfort her and the overwhelming strong desire to lay into her about what she had done. In the end prudence won out and he held his silence as the light turned green and Mary pulled out into the traffic.

xxx

They were a few minutes early to meet the train which resulted in them standing on the platform, killing time. Marshall stood still, calm, quietly watching the comings and goings of the crowd. No one would have guessed that he was mentally assessing each and every person in the vicinity of the platform.

Mary paced, a few feet away for Marshall. She was also keeping tabs on the other passengers, but in a much more 'Don't mess with me!' kind of way. She was quietly working up a righteous anger in response to Marshall's silent fuming. He hadn't said a word to her since she had told him about the book and his deliberately neutral façade was beginning to irritate her. Who was he, to judge her? What right did he have to criticise her choices when it came to revealing the truth? Especially as...

She stalked back to him and poked him with an accusatory finger, "You lied to Stan about Ellen!"

Marshall rubbed the spot on his chest where she poked him and went to answer her, but she cut him off.

"You lied to _ME_ about Ellen! So where the hell do you get off telling me what I can and can't tell Raph? And what's up with that? Who the hell lies about having a sister? And don't give me any of that BS about her being the black sheep of the family. Hell, have you _met_ _my _family?"

She paused in her tirade as a new though occurred to her, "Is she even your sister? Or, was what you told Stan the truth? Did you trap her into one of your deluded fantasies, the way you trapped me? What the hell is this? Some kind of instant family for yourself? God, Marshall! Are you so jealous of me and Raph that you'd...Christ, I don't even know what to call it!"

Marshall caught both her hands, which had been gesticulating wildly, and held them, forcing Mary to stand still and look at him.

"Mary, while I'd like to answer your ludicrous accusations, can we not do this now?"

"Why the hell not?" she growled.

"Because, our witness is about to arrive," he told her, indicating the approaching train.

Mary's eyes bore into him in anger. He kept hold of her hands until he felt the fight go out of her. He released her just as the train slowed to a halt. She turned to watch the passengers disembark and soon spotted the man who was obviously their witness, accompanied as he was by two of their colleagues.

She threw a look in Marshall's direction to confirm he had seen the young man, then traipsed over to meet the three men.

Mike Ledgewood was exceptionally pale for a man who had spent most of his life in California. His pale skin enforced the stereotype of the computer nerd who never left his room. He clasped his rucksack in front of his chest, like a lifeline. Marshall hid the smile that arose as he thanked the powers that be he had taken the time to calm Mary down before she met and terrified the poor lad.

"Mike?" Mary greeted him, with a quick nod to the agents. "I'm Mary Sheppard, that's Marshall Miller. We'll be taking over your detail and I'll be your point of contact."

Mike stared at Mary and Marshall nervously, only slightly reassured by Marshall's distracted smile as he took up his position along side him to keep watch. Mary took his arm and led him toward the SUV. As they walked, she outlined the day ahead for them, confident that Marshall was making sure no one was in a position to overhear them.

"We're gonna stop by the motel to drop your stuff off, then we'll get something to eat. Any preference?" she paused long enough for Mike to shake his head timidly, "Okay. Well, after lunch we'll head over to our office, where we'll get all the paperwork sorted out."

They had reached the car and Mary opened the door, asking as she did so, "Any questions?"

She received another nervous head shake before Mike dived into the car like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Mary closed the door behind him and exchanged a pained look over the top of the vehicle with Marshall before getting in the car.

xxx

Marshall flipped through the Memorandum of Understanding, half listening as Mary explained the rules to Michael, the other half of him working out how long it was going to take to get through the rest of the document.

Mary had just reached the section about transference of medical cover when Eleanor came in asking if anyone wanted coffee or something to eat. Mike, who hadn't spoken other than to answer questions put directly to him, nodded eagerly at the mention of coffee. Mary continued with the WITSEC rules until Eleanor returned with three mugs of coffee. Marshall thanked her and indicated to Mary that now would be a good opportunity to take a break. Mary sent a puzzled look his way, not understanding why he didn't want to just plough through it like normal.

"Mike, would you excuse Mary and I for a minute," he asked as he dragged Mary from the room by her arm.

"What?" she snapped when the door was closed.

"Look at him," Marshall told her, "He looks like he's about to cry! Let's just give him a minute."

Mary gave him a look that conveyed her current low opinion of him and re-entered the conference room. Marshall followed. Mike watched as Mary sat back down and appeared to sulk. He glanced at Marshall, wondering just what had been said on the other side of the door.

"So, Mike, how does a nice computer programmer, like you, end up in a place like this?" Marshall enquired, trying to act casual and put Mike at ease.

Mike took a shaky breath and said quietly, "My brother."

"Your brother?" Marshall confirmed, surreptitiously reaching for the file to see if a brother was mentioned.

Mike wiped a hand across his eyes, either from tiredness or wiping away un-shed tears, "Paul helped organise supplies for Keith and Ralf," he told them, referring to the two bank robbers, "When they needed someone that was good with computers, he asked me."

"Why isn't Paul here with you?" Mary asked.

"The ADA didn't offer him the deal. Turns out he didn't just organise the supplies."

"So you ended up agreeing to testify against your brother?" Marshall quizzed, "Man, that's harsh!" he added quietly as Mike nodded in confirmation.

Mary's head shot up, "That's rich coming from the man that's practically disowned his sister!"

Mike stared, eyes wide in surprise, looking at the marshal next to him and re-apprising him in the light of this new information. He still watching him when he heard Mary mutter, "If she _is _your sister!" so he saw Marshall finch at the venom in her tone.

* * *

**PS.** I'm open to suggestions for the title of this chapter.


	10. Porn Isn't the Answer

**AN:** Today I have been walking that fine line between avoiding spoilers and my habitual internet use. IPS aired several hours ago in America, but until I find a decent source to download it from and actually download it, the internet is a potential minefield of spoilers. All this is my convoluted way of asking any IPS fanfic authors reading this to make sure your titles and summaries are as spoiler free as possible for the first couple of days after an episode airs. Or at least clearly marked, up front. I once read a summary for a Gilmore Girls fic that said 'What if Richard had died in the hospital? Spoilers for ep xxx'. Thanks for that, whoever you were! By the time I read the warning I already knew that Richard was in hospital and that he survived! The only thing the spoiler warning told me was which episode all this occurred in! Anyone wondering why I put so many spoiler warnings at the top of the chapter, when I only mention the events in passing, you now know why.

Okay, rant over.

* * *

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 10 – Porn Isn't the Answer.**

An uneasy truce had been silently agreed to by the two marshals by the time the MoU was finished.

"Any questions?" Mary asked the standard, final question.

Mike looked shiftily between the pair of them before asking, "What about online identities?"

Mary narrowed her eyes in contempt. What part of 'no contact' did these people not understand?

"I use a screen name online, nobody knows my real identity," Mike explained.

"What sort sites are you using these screen names on?" Marshall enquired, cringing as he pre-empted the answer.

"World of Warcraft is the main one, I've spent years building up my character's skills on that, but I'm also the moderator on a tech advice site and a couple of chat rooms."

Mary sat back and rubbed her forehead in anticipation of the headache this was going to give her.

"The tech site and the chat rooms will be too easy to trace," Marshall told him, relieved the answer hadn't been 'porn', "but we may be able to arrange something about the World of Warcraft account."

Mike nodded, understandingly. He knew how easy it would be to track someone using a static IP address, but he was pleased with Marshall's reassurance about his Warcraft character. He signed the thick document without further comment. Mary stood and gestured to Mike that it was time to leave. Marshall picked up the three copies of the MoU they had been using and followed Mary and the witness out of the room. He put the signed MoU on his desk, to be filed later.

"Wait here," Mary told Mike, as she dove into Stan's office.

"Are you taking me back to the motel now?" Mike asked Marshall, while he waited.

"Mary will in a minute."

"Are you not coming with me?" Mike asked, nervous at the prospect of being left alone with Mary.

"No, I have to go over to the DOJ office to file your paperwork," he responded.

Mary finally re-emerged from Stan's office, Stan in tow, just as Marshall was gathering the necessary paperwork for the DOJ. She motioned for Mike to follow her and they headed for the door.

"Will I see you at home?" Marshall asked casually, as Mary headed out.

"Yeah," she agreed, knowing she couldn't go home to Raph without facing his questions. And he would have _a lot_ of questions if she went home a day earlier than planned.

As they both exited the office neither of them saw the shock and puzzlement on the faces of Stan and Eleanor as the implication of Marshall's question registered.

As the doors of the elevator closed on the trio, Stan turned to Eleanor, "Do you think there's something...?"

"No," Eleanor replied adamantly.

"You sound sure. What do you know that I don't?"

"Many, many things," she joked.

"Seriously, you didn't think that was odd?" Stan tilted his head in the direction of the elevator, indicating the just departed marshals.

"Oh, it was odd, all right, but there's nothing going on between them," Eleanor affirmed as she sorted through her pile of paperwork.

"How do you know?" Stan lent against the filing cabinet.

"The tension's still there," she shrugged.

"Oh," Stan said. He contemplated her answer a moment, before, "Hang on, what tension?"

Eleanor looked at Stan, wondering how he could be so oblivious.

"Oh, God. If there _is_ something going on, it could be an administrative nightmare," Stan rubbed his hand across his forehead.

He muttered to himself, listing all the potential implications, Eleanor didn't catch most of the list but she did hear him mutter, "I'd have to find new partners for them..."

Eleanor snorted, causing Stan to stop his mumbling and look at her.

"I don't envy you the task of trying to find someone else willing to work with her."

Stan chuckled, "He's no picnic either, he had five partners in as many months before he came here."

"Really?" Eleanor asked, surprised. She cocked an eyebrow at Stan, inviting him to tell her more.

xxx

Marshall got back to his house before Mary. Ellen was in the living room working through his DVD collection. She'd picked the Robert Redford classic _Brubaker_ as that afternoon's viewing and Marshall joined her for the last few minutes of the movie.

As the credits rolled, Ellen turned to face her brother who had been brooding since he got in.

"Can you talk about it?" she asked.

He fidgeted uncomfortably, considering all the things he would like to talk to her about.

"I think I'm going to need to tell Mary something better. About you," he revealed, slowly.

Ellen considered what he was saying for a moment then got up and went into the kitchen, returning shortly with two bottles of beer. Marshall accepted the offering, tacitly acknowledging that the conversation was the sort that required beer.

"Which bit is she questioning?" Ellen asked after taking a swig from her bottle.

"All of it," Marshall picked at the corner of the bottle's label, "She's even questioning if you're actually my sister."

"Why would she do that?"

"She's Mary. She's suspicious of everybody. And I lied to my boss, about you, today."

"So what story _would_ she buy?"

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

"Should I talk to her?"

"And say what?"

"No idea, I'll think of something."

"It might be better to let me handle it. Then she'll only be pissed at one of us," he added with a wry smile.

Ellen let the subject drop as she heard a key turning in the lock, signalling Mary's return.

xxx

Mary was standing at the sink, washing up after Ellen had cooked dinner for the three of them. She was reviewing what she had to do the following day and didn't hear Ellen enter the kitchen over the sound of running water.

Ellen picked up a dish cloth and leant with her back against the sink, ready to dry. Mary observed her for a moment. Ellen contemplated the floor. Finally she said, "For someone who should know better, you sure ask a lot of questions."

Mary paused, her hands in the soapy water, "What do you mean 'I should know better'?"

"I just meant for someone in your line of work..."

"What do you know about my line of work?" Mary enquired suspiciously, ready to berate Marshall for his double standards regarding Raph, when his sister also knew.

"Nothing, really. I know you work with Marshall, and while I don't _know _what he does, I could make an educated guess," she said.

Her response only served to confuse Mary, "You've never wondered what Marshall does?"

"Sure, I've _wondered_, I may have even speculated from time to time, but I've never _asked_."

"Why not?"

"I would never put my brother on the spot like that. I love him too much to have him lie to me. Plus, it's just not what our family does. No, we just memorise trivia," she muttered the last under her breath, but Mary heard.

Mary focused on the plate in her hand, rubbing it much longer than was necessary, as she contemplated Ellen's words and the warning behind them.

Ellen nudged her and pointed to the plate forcing Mary's attention back to what she was doing. She handed the plate over.

"So, what does your family do then? What's with the trivia?" Mary asked, genuinely interested.

Ellen shrugged, "We couldn't be like other families, sitting round the dinner table discussing their day, so we would discuss the things we had learned that day, bits of trivia we had picked up. It became a competition between Marshall and myself, to find a obscure fact that Dad didn't know. We never succeeded. That man knew everything! Or, at least, he pretended he did." She smiled in reminiscence.

"Sounds like fun," Mary said sarcastically. But even to her own ears it missed sarcasm by a mile and sounded more than a little envious.

Ellen stayed mercifully silent. They continued washing up, each thinking their own thoughts.

As they neared the end of the stack of dishes, Mary returned to the original subject.

"No one that knows Marshall would ever believe he had disowned his sister. You should come up with a better cover story for whatever it is you do," she advised, already applying herself to finding a more plausible lie for the pair.


	11. Quarter Past the Witching Hour

**AN:** Seriously, does no one have a suggestion for the title of chapter 9?

Oh, and I'll be conveniently ignoring the events of the season final, making this officially AU from _Once a Ponzi Time _onwards_._

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 11 – A Quarter Past the Witching Hour**

"So what did my sister say to you in the kitchen?" Marshall called into the bathroom as he changed into his pyjamas.

"Huh?" came Mary's muffled response.

Marshall walked over to the partially open door and peered in checking, discreetly, that Mary was decent. He pushed the door open a little more and leant in the doorway as she brushed her teeth, hair grasped in her hand to keep it out of her way. He resisted the urge to hold it for her and repeated his question.

"What did Ellen say to you? You spent the entire evening trying to find out what she does, in your oh-so subtle way, then you both disappear into the kitchen for ten minutes and when you come out it's not mentioned again. What did she tell you? Did she tell you what she does?"

Mary spat out a mouthful of toothpaste.

"She told me to stop being so God damn nosy," she wiped her mouth and eyed the shower longingly, "do you mind if I take a shower?"

Marshall shook his head but remained where he was.

"Do you wanna stand there and watch, or...?" Mary let the question hang in the air.

Marshall smiled impudently, "No, if I was going to watch, I'd stand over there. I'd get a much better view."

He caught the towel that came flying toward his head with ease. He balled up in his hands then asked, "Did you want this? Or do you have something to change into?"

Mary, realising she had thrown the only towel of sufficient size and recognising the challenge in Marshall eyes, made a dive for the towel. Marshall backed out the doorway rapidly, holding the towel above his head, the only way he managed to keep anything out of Mary's reach. Mary dove for it again, but came up short. She grabbed his arm above his shoulder and tried to pull his arm down and the towel into reach. They both knew that she could easily have retrieved the towel with a quick elbow to the ribs or by taking his knees out, but that wasn't part of the game.

They were so involved in their tussle that they didn't notice Ellen walk past the open bedroom door. She did a double take at the scene and leant against the door frame, unknowingly mimicking her brother's position from just moments before. She watched Mary futilely attempting to climb up her partner's tall frame then, as she changed her attack, try to pull his arm down once more.

An evil gleam entered Ellen's eye as she said, "He's ticklish."

The pair of marshals froze in position as they realised they were being watched. They turned their heads to stare at Ellen, Marshall in horror that his sister was such a traitor and Mary in glee as the new information registered.

Use of the hand-to hand combat moves and tactics they were both familiar with, may not have been allowed when they fought each other, but tickling most certainly was.

Within seconds Marshall was collapsed in a heap on the side of the bed, valiantly trying to fend of Mary as she explored his body for all the sensitive spots.

Ellen retreated to the hall, closing the door as she went. She could still hear the howls of laughter from her room and hoped it was only the sound of laughter that penetrated the walls. She really didn't want to hear her brother at the activity the tickle fight was bound to turn into.

xxx

Marshall gasped for breath as Mary launched another attack, "No. Please. No. Stop," he begged breathlessly, in-between bouts of laughter.

Mary being Mary, ignored his pleas.

He attempted to crawl backwards across the bed, only to have Mary follow him. He realised, too late, just how much of a bad idea that had been, when Mary used his new position in the middle of the bed to straddle him and pin his arms under her knees.

Effectively disarmed, he could only submit to the onslaught until tears rolled down his cheeks.

Seeing she had Marshall thoroughly beaten and struggling for breath herself, unused to laughing so much, Mary halted her attack. Marshall lay beneath her panting, hair dishevelled and eyeing her warily, worried that the ceasefire was temporary, a precursor to another attack. He was somewhat surprised when Mary shifted backwards slightly, freeing his hands. He rubbed at his wrists, revelling in the sight of Mary flushed with laughter, still grinning moronically at him in victory.

Mary saw the spark of defiance in his eyes but didn't know what it signified until Marshall tilted his hips, effectively flipping her over, freeing himself. As she found herself falling unexpectedly, she squealed like a girl until she hit the mattress with a thud. She decided she couldn't be bothered to retaliate since she knew she had the means to beat Marshall at will, instead she lay on her back next to him as they both caught their breath.

The towel lay on the floor, forgotten.

xxx

Mary emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing the sleeveless top and shorts of the previous night, to see Marshall sitting up in bed, reading. She switched the bathroom light out and noticed that Marshall was staring at her. Well, at her legs. She walked toward the bed, fascinated by the way Marshall's eyes tracked her path. Only when she reached the end of the bed and her legs were blocked from his view did his eyes alight on her face. She looked at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly, causing him to blush at being caught staring and quickly drop his gaze back to his book.

Mary sat on the edge of the bed as she towel dried her hair, mulling over his reaction. She'd been told she was beautiful by a variety of men, but she had always passed it off as some BS they were telling her to get into her pants. It had never meant anything to her. An offhand comment from Bobby D had made her feel more desirable than all the pillow talk she had suffered through over the years. And now, Marshall, with a single look, had conveyed _his_ thoughts on the matter.

She grabbed a hairbrush from her bag and started running it through her hair as she contemplated how she could use the fact that Marshall found her attractive to her advantage. She was so deep in thought that she was startled when Marshall spoke.

"Can you tie that back?"

"Huh?"

"Can you tie your hair back, tonight? I almost choked to death on it last night," Marshall told her.

"That was all part of my plan to kill you and get a decent partner," she joked as she reached into her bag to retrieve a hair band.

"Please," Marshall scoffed, "You and I both know that's not how I'm going to die at your hand," he said casually, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the page of his book despite the fact he had made no progress with it since she had come out the bathroom.

"Really?"

"Yeah, that would require planning, patience and luck. None of which are your strong points. No, we both know that one day you'll just snap and beat me to death with whatever is at hand," he looked at her as he said with a hint of a smile, "I'm just hoping it's something respectable, I'd hate for my death certificate to read 'bludgeoned to death with a pretzel'."

Mary replied, dryly, "I'll try to keep a hammer on me at all times."

"If you could..." he asked as she crawled into bed next to him, "Do you mind if I read for a while?"

She shook her head, releasing several strands of hair from the loosely tied bun. She lay on her side, facing Marshall and closed her eyes.

Marshall read for half an hour then put his book down and turned the light off. His movement roused Mary from sleep enough for her to register the presence of a warm body in bed with her but not enough to question the identity as she inched toward it, subconsciously craving affection.

Marshall didn't resist when Mary rested her head on his shoulder and draped an arm over his stomach.

xxx

Something disturbed Mary's sleep. Something was missing.

She opened her eyes reluctantly.

Something was definitely missing.

She automatically reached into the bedside drawer, checking the location of her Glock. That was where it should be.

What was it that had woken her?

She turned to Marshall, to see if he had been disturbed too.

The bed was empty.

She peered across the room in the faint pre-morning gloom, trying to see if he was in the bathroom. The door was open slightly but she couldn't see or hear him in there. She lay, staring at the ceiling as she pondered what to do. What would she do if she woke up to find Raph missing? Probably roll over, claim the extra space and go back to sleep. She rolled over and, unbidden, her feet touched the floor. She wandered out into the hall, rubbing her arms against the pre-dawn chill. At first glance, the kitchen and living room appeared empty. She was about to do a more thorough search when she heard a sound from behind her, coming from Ellen's room. Turning, she saw a crack of light surrounding the door. She listened for a moment then pushed the door open an inch.

Through the gap she could see Marshall sitting on the bed, his arms around a clearly upset Ellen. The movement of the door had caught his eye and he was staring at Mary as he murmured quietly to his sister, comforting her. Mary met his eye and asked silently if he need anything, with a slight shake of his head he reassured her he had everything under control and she could return to bed.

xxx

Mary lay wide awake, as she waited for Marshall to come back to bed. Eventually, the door inched open and he slipped into the room.

Mary sat up and asked, "Is she okay?"

"I don't know," he said as he got back into bed, "She's pretty shaken up. Said it was a nightmare, but it seemed more like a flashback to me."

"Do you know what it was about?"

"I didn't ask."

"You know," Mary said after a minute, "as screwed up as my childhood was, yours was just as screwed up. Just in a completely different way."

Marshall said nothing, but silently agreed with Mary's assessment.

"Your family's so shrouded in mystery, so secretive, that you probably haven't even realised that you haven't told me whether Ellen is older or younger than you."

Marshall's face broke into a grin as he said, "She's my twin."

"What?" Mary exclaimed, sitting up, "You mean, all the times I've joked about the world coming to an end if there were two Marshall Manns in it and you laughed, you knew there was another version of you out there!"

"That's what made me laugh, coz your jokes, sure as hell, aren't that funny," Marshall teased.

"Funny," she said, clearly indicating her opinion to the contrary, "Some cultures believe that each twin carries a piece of the other's soul. Is that what happened to you? Does Ellen have your wit?"

"She may have my wit, but she doesn't have my witnesses."

In the partial dark he could almost hear Mary roll her eyes.

"Actually, I was the funny one as a kid. She was the serious one. Every time I wanted to do something that was fun or funny, she would talk me out of it or tell our parents."

"What sort of things did you want to do?"

"There was one time I put a fake note on a classroom door saying the lesson was cancelled so I didn't have to go to it. It worked too, no one turned up for the lesson and the teacher couldn't work out where her entire class was. It was perfect. No one knew it was me. Truly the perfect crime, or so I thought until I got home and found out Ellen had told mom what I had done. She'd recognised my hand writing but kept quiet at the time as she didn't want to go to the lesson either."

"What lesson was it?"

"Spanish, I think. I must have had an assignment due in, I don't really remember. I do remember I hated my Spanish teacher, so I may have done it just to irritate her."

He smiled at the memory.

"That was the night I taught Ellen how to escape a double arm lock."

"You mean you tried to pin her and she escaped?" Mary corrected.

"Basically, yeah."

"What else did you do?" she asked, intrigued by her partner's childhood, so different from her own.

Marshall spent what remained of the night telling her about the tricks and stunts her got up to as a kid, the time flying by until the day had fully dawned and it was time to get up.


	12. Can't Make an Omelette Without

**Spoilers** for _Stan by Me_ and _A Fine Meth_

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 12 – You Can't Make an Omelette Without Breaking Down**

By unspoken assent, the three of them gathered in the kitchen earlier than they would have normally. It was obvious to Mary that Ellen had not gone back to sleep either, after her nightmare. She sat at the table, the signs of strain showing now that Mary knew to look for them. Marshall patted his sister on the head as he walked past, simultaneously irritating and reassuring her, the way only a brother can. He made no comment as to why she was sitting at his kitchen table at 5.30 am when she was supposed to be on vacation. He and Mary at least had the excuse that they had to be at work at some point this morning. Even if it was only for a few hours, they were still expected to go in on a Saturday to catch up on all the things that slipped through the net in the week.

Mary took a seat opposite Ellen and slumped forward as she stared out the window. Ellen focused on tracing the wood grain of the table with her finger. Marshall took one look at his two women at the table and set about making breakfast as quietly as possible so he could listen to the conversation he knew was about to come.

"You okay?" Mary asked uncomfortably. She knew how much she hated it when people asked her that but could think of no other way to broach the subject.

Ellen gave her a sidelong glance and a wry smile as her only answer.

"Well, if you want to talk," Mary offered knowing that was what was expected and knowing how irritating it could be. She cursed herself, silently, for resorting to such a cliché.

"I can't."

"Can't as in it's classified, or can't as in just _can't_?"

"A little of both," Ellen admitted.

"Oh," Mary didn't know what else to say.

They sat in silence. The silence was slightly unnerving for Marshall who was used to his sister's constant chatter, the absence of which betrayed just how shaken Ellen was after her nightmare. More worrying was the fact she was allowing him to cook unhindered by her 'helpful' hints and comments. He couldn't remember the last time he had been allowed in the kitchen without having to forcibly remove her first. He was drawn out of his introspection as the conversation resumed.

"I had a near miss a while ago," Mary began slowly, uncomfortable at telling this to someone she had only met a few days ago and at dragging up the memories for the first time since it happened, "I was drugged, beaten pretty badly, held captive for several hours, almost raped and I...I killed a man," Mary kept her voice low and even through sheer force of will, but when Ellen looked at her face, she could see the remembered pain and fear written there all too clearly.

Mary continued, "Then I had to go home to my family," she closed her eyes as she tried to block out the events of that evening and the hurtful things that were said. "At least you get to come home to Marshall. I'd swap him for my sister, Brandi, in an instant," she sighed.

Neither woman noticed Marshall tense at Mary's words, too engrossed in their own personal trials.

"Yeah," Ellen flicked her eyes to Marshall's back, where he stood at the stove seemingly ignoring them. "Are you okay, now?" she asked.

Mary thought a while, "Probably not," she revealed, "I'm better than after it happened, but I still have the occasional nightmare, when I'm tired or anxious."

They lapsed into silence again. Ellen went back to tracing the wood grain, Mary sat watching Marshall.

"I've been on administrative leave for a month," Ellen announced, "I'm seeing a counsellor three times a week." She smiled briefly as Mary grimaced at that revelation.

She continued, "I was working undercover to bring down a child pornography ring." She drew a shaky breath and shook her head as she added, "Except, it all went wrong."

Mary cringed in sympathy.

"I'm not sure I like who I've become," Ellen confided, "I shouldn't be able to see the things I've seen and not feel horrified. I used to be racked with guilt every time I discharged my weapon. But now, I've seen things I _know_ are much worse, things I _know_ are horrific, but I just don't feel anything. And that's not normal. It's not right!"

Mary stared, at a loss for what to say. She could only imagine what Ellen had been through, just how the operation could have gone wrong and the consequences of those errors. Nothing she could say would help, she knew that, but she was a fixer and she desperately wanted to fix this. For Ellen's sake. For Marshall.

"It's not normal," Marshall said, entering the conversation for the first time.

He gave Ellen a while to consider his words, which were the opposite of what the psychologist had been telling her. They had just kept reassuring her that it was normal to become numb to suffering when surrounded by it, as she had been. They had made it sound like it was okay not to feel anything, yet here was her brother, telling her it _wasn't _okay.

Marshall placed an omelette in front of each woman. He put a hand on Ellen's shoulder, drawing her attention to him.

He reassured her with quiet certainty, "You're too close. Take a step back for a while. The horror will come back."

As he returned to the stove for his own breakfast, Mary leaned across the table and whispered in a voice loud enough for Marshall to hear, "Don't tell your brother this, but I think he's pretty smart."

"Yeah he is," Ellen whispered back, a slow smile spreading across her face as she announced, "Although he only got a C minus in women's studies at college."

Mary grinned and raised an eyebrow at Marshall, as he sat at the table with them.

He spluttered, "Yeah, well, that wasn't about what I thought it would be about."


	13. Things Fall Apart

**AN: **I'm excited about this chapter. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 13 – Things Fall Apart**

The early start to the morning turned out to be fortuitous as three minutes after Marshall swallowed his last mouthful of omelette his cell rang.

"This is Marshall," he told the caller.

"Marshall, I need you to get over to Mary's and drag her ass out of bed!"

"Whoa, Stan. Slow down. What's the problem?"

"She needs to move her witness..."

"What? Why?" The mention of the witness drove all thoughts of why Stan was calling his, rather than Mary's cell from his mind.

"We had someone from the ESU monitoring the websites he mentioned. He posted several messages this morning saying he won't be around much any more."

"I'm on it."

"What's up?" Mary asked.

"We need to go," Marshall told her and with an apologetic smile to Ellen added, "I'll tell you in the car."

Mary stood and disappeared into the bedroom, retrieving her leather jacket, badge and gun.

"Where's your cell?" Marshall asked as he entered the room to grab the badge and gun from his side of the bed.

Mary's hand automatically went to her waistband, but came away disappointed. She looked round the room trying to spot it. Not seeing it in any of the obvious places, she began frantically searching the less obvious ones. Marshall looked up from clipping on his holster to see Mary throwing clothes over her shoulder as she searched the pile of clothes from the last couple of days in case she had left it in a pocket.

Marshall dodged yesterday's dirty blouse and yelled, "Ellen, can you see if Mary's cell is out there?" before joining the search.

After checking the bathroom, he knelt down and peered under the bed and was rewarded with a glimpse of the missing phone. He rescued it and threw it to Mary as they made their way out the door. As he pulled the door closed behind him he did his best to ignore the mess that Mary had created in under a minute, resolving to tidy up later, when the witness was safe.

Mary clipped the phone onto her waist without looking at it, too busy trying to get her arm into her jacket before she got outside and simultaneously dig her car keys out of the coat pocket.

xxx

The drive to the motel that she had left her witness in the night before was mercifully short, the Albuquerque traffic not being very heavy at 6 am on a Saturday morning.

Mike wasn't happy about being bundled into the back of Mary's car in his pyjamas. Mary handed Marshall the keys and he looked at them in distaste.

"Suck it up and drive" she told him, before clambering into the back with her witness, anticipating some time to have a good long chat with him.

"Where to, M'Lady?" Marshall asked as he finally got the engine ticking over.

"The office, we can stash him there while I try to sort out the apartment."

As Marshall pulled out onto the road, quietly praying that the car wouldn't stall, Mary turned to Mike.

"Just what the hell did you think you were doing?" Mary growled.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Posting messages on those websites."

"Oh that. It's okay, I took precautions."

"Yeah," Marshall snickered, from the front, "Some of those computer viruses can do nasty things to a man's..."

Mary glared at him until he shut up.

"What precautions?" she asked.

"Well, I set up a proxy server then routed that through to the mainframe at the university so it would look like a student was running the site. And even if they tracked that back, I didn't login via the motel's wireless network, but hacked into a wi-fi down the road."

Mary tried to follow his logic, but couldn't.

"I'm not an idiot," he added, suggesting that he thought Mary might be.

"We'll see," she muttered.

xxx

Mary leant on the counter, waiting impatiently for the fresh pot of coffee she had just started. She rubbed her hand across her eyes, trying to fend off the tiredness she felt. God, she needed coffee. She was used to working long, odd hours but she usually had more coffee in her to sustain her. God damn it! Why the hell was it taking so long? She'd been wake since some God awful hour this morning and it had been a long and frustrating morning.

She'd spent a good chunk of her morning explaining to her witness why he couldn't just create a proxy server and carry on running a website. Due to both the security concerns and the rather dubious legality of it. That was after she had spent a frustrating twenty minutes on the phone with some guy in the ESU trying to find out what a proxy server was. Unfortunately, she'd left her Geek-to-English dictionary at home so after twenty minutes she still didn't have a clue and just handed the phone over to Marshall.

After that, she'd spent the next half hour trying to get some one from the realtor's office to call her to discuss an apartment for her witness. She'd finally managed to get an insolent woman on the phone, just as Marshall informed her that by using the UoNM mainframe, Mike had just painted a big target on his back and it would be better if they relocated him.

Now they were waiting to hear if and where Mike could be relocated to, so they could start working out the logistics of transporting him.

She hated waiting.

She needed coffee. She needed more sleep. She needed her witness to stop being an idiot. She needed...

"I need sex," she murmured.

"I'm sorry?" Eleanor asked from her desk.

"Huh?"

"I though you said something,"

"Did I? I must have been thinking out loud," Mary tried to sound nonchalant.

"Just to prove that you do?" Eleanor ribbed.

Mary tossed her hair over her shoulder so she could narrow her eyes and glare at Eleanor unobstructed.

"What were you thinking?" Eleanor asked, curious.

Mary hesitated, "I was thinking that I need sex. I haven't had any in almost a week," she said, deciding honesty was best. For the shock factor alone.

"Oh, poor you," Eleanor said, her tone bordering on commiseration, but on the sarcastic side of the border. "A whole week? How _have_ you managed?"

"Fine! How long's it been for you?" Mary asked, blunt as ever.

Eleanor thought for a moment, "A few months."

"God, how do you get through the day?" Mary poured herself a coffee. Finally. She topped Eleanor's mug up as well, perching on the desk next to her.

"I don't think about it too much. I tend to want to throw down with the first man I see if I give it any thought."

"Give what any thought?" Marshall's timing was either perfect or spectacularly bad, depending on which side of the desk was asked.

"What's going on? Why's she looking at me like that?" Marshall asked Mary, slightly worried.

Mary was staring at Eleanor in shock, "Seriously? Him?"

"Why not?"

"I feel like I've just been volunteered for something. Anyone wanna tell me what?"

"Mmm...Don't tempt me..." Eleanor said as she imagined all the things she'd like to volunteer him for.

"Eleanor wants to have sex with you," Mary informed him as she sipped her coffee.

Marshall felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he finally recognised the predatory gleam in Eleanor's eye for what it was. He regarded her steadily, the smirk on his face making her feel that he could read all the thoughts in the her mind and he wasn't adverse to the dirtier ones.

"Good God, either get a room the two of you or get a grip," Mary growled.

The spell broken, Eleanor turned to Mary, "You can't tell me you've never thought about it."

"With him?" she nearly choked, "Hell, no!"

"Standing right here!"

"Sorry, Marshall, you're just not my type. I prefer a man with enough muscle to at least have a chance at pinning me to the bed," she smirked at him over her coffee cup, "You're too...scrawny."

"I can be hurt, you know."

Eleanor leant back in her chair, taking a long moment to thoroughly appraise Marshall before she spoke, "I don't know, Mary, he's not so much scrawny as wiry, there's hidden strength there."

"Thank you." Marshall paused, considering what she had said, then added, "I think."

"I reckon he'd be able to pin you pretty good. Especially with all his training."

Mary tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as she raked them across his body, reassessing him in light of Eleanor's words, "You think so?" she asked.

"I can't believe I'm standing here listening to this conversation," he shook his head. He was beginning to feel like a piece of meat hanging in a butcher's window. Or maybe a deer caught in headlights would be a better comparison; he'd seen his destruction coming a mile away, but still felt compelled to remain where he was.

"No one's making you," Mary informed him.

"Well, if you'd be so kind as to hand me a coffee, I'll head back to my desk and you two can continue discussing my prowess in bed."

"Yeah, like _that's_ ever gonna come up," Mary scoffed.

"That's what his last girlfriend said," Eleanor replied with a wicked grin in his direction.

Marshall did what any man with common sense would do in that situation – beat a hasty retreat.

"I think I'll forgo the coffee," he said as he turned back to his desk.

"Oh, Marshall, before you go," Eleanor called, making him turn back, "take off your jacket."

"Huh? What? Why?" he asked, flustered.

"There's a stain on the back, give it to me, I'll take care of it for you," Eleanor was quick to reassure him.

"Thank you, Eleanor." He shrugged out of the jacket, missing Mary's puzzled expression, she hadn't noticed a stain. She kept quiet, for once, after Eleanor winked at her behind Marshall's back. He turned to Mary, "I can't believe you'd let me walk round with a mark on my back."

"Who do you think I am? Your wife?"

Marshall suppressed the urge to make a comeback and headed back to his desk, oblivious to the fact that by removing his jacket he afforded the two women an unrestricted view of his ass.

"Nice," Mary acknowledged, praising both Eleanor's fiendish plan and the view it afforded her.

Their moment of womanly bonding was cut short as Stan came storming into the office yelling for Mary.

"What's up, Chief?" She asked, puzzled by his angry mood.

"Where the hell were you this morning?" he demanded.

"Umm..."

"You know better than to not have you phone on you when you're not at home!"

"That's an interesting sentence there, Chief," Eleanor commented gently, wanting to defuse any tension before it came to blows.

"She knows what I mean!" Stan insisted.

"I'm not so sure she does," Eleanor pointed out.

Stan paced a couple of steps back and forth, allowing for the possibility that Eleanor was right, "Why the hell didn't you answer your phone?"

"The battery was dead. I forgot to put it on to charge last night."

"You forgot?" he yelped, surprised, "That's not like you."

"Everyone's allowed to make a mistake or forget, once in a while, Stan, don't read too much into it," Marshall interjected, ever the peace keeper when it came to Mary.

"Okay, but where were you this morning? I called you house, they seemed to think you were already at work."

Mary eyes darted to Marshall, a hint of panic in them or a plea for him to help her, he couldn't tell.

"Who did you speak to?" Mary asked in a tightly controlled voice.

She'd told Raph she'd be working, an explanation for her absence she knew he wouldn't question unless given reason to. But had Stan, unwittingly, just blown her cover?


	14. If Nothing Changes

Thanks to Yankee306, who's ideas I poached for this chapter.

**There's some bad language in this chapter. Sorry about that, but it just fits.**

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**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 14 – If Nothing Changes, Everything Will Stay the Same.**

Mary drove down the road toward her house. It was late in the afternoon when she had finally arranged for her witness to be moved. He was being flown to Spokane, Washington, tomorrow, but until she picked him up to take him to the jet he was safely ensconced in a motel, far away from the first, while his laptop remained locked in the office. She wondered if that was a record for the marshal service. Two relocations in under 48 hours. She doubted it, knowing witnesses' ability to find trouble, but it was her personal best.

The remainder of the afternoon had passed peacefully in the thankless task of paperwork. The only thing that had kept her sane as she filled in the monotonous forms was the fact that tonight she would be going home to her fiancé and she'd finally be able to scratch that itch.

She turned the corner into her road and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw her house was still standing and not on fire or anything. Pleased that her house was as she had left it, and eager to be home, she practically jumped out the car and ran up the steps to the front door.

Her good mood vanished the moment she stepped over the threshold.

The house was _exactly_ as she had left it.

xxx

Marshall sat in his car outside his house. He didn't want to go in. Not yet anyway. Ellen was inside and as much as he loved his sister, he just wanted a minute to himself without her talking his ears off.

He wanted a minute to think about the rather surreal conversation he'd been part of this morning. The conversation from which he had finally acquired proof positive that Mary didn't think of him 'like that'.

His mind drifted further back, to breakfast.

"_I'd swap him for my sister, Brandi, in an instant," _she'd said.

Was he forever doomed to play the supportive brother in her mess of a life? Didn't she realise he already had a sister and didn't need another one? Would she ever look at him with half the desire in her eyes that he'd seen in Eleanor's?

He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

What was he doing? What had he thought would happen when he made that bet? Had he really expected her to...?

Expected her to what?

Just what had he thought the outcome of this bet, this charade, would be?

Had he expected her to suddenly realise that he was as good a man as Raphael? That he could give her everything she wanted? That she could be happy with him?

Or was it worse than that? Had he actually expected, thought for one moment, that she would fall in love with him?

He was a fool.

He knew her better than that.

He'd just been torturing himself for no reason. Allowing himself to glimpse what he wanted, but could never have. Allowing the dream to come within touching distance before it floated away, back to it's real life fiancé.

He let his head loll to one side so he could look at his house.

His house that would forever be filled with memories of her. Filled with tantalising glimpses of their life together, a life from a different dimension, an alternative universe. A reality where those who played the waiting game always won, where nice guys didn't always finish last, where he was happy and Mary loved him.

He stared dully at the house. He was never going to be able to rid it of those memories.

Perhaps he should just burn it down to the ground.

xxx

Mary had somehow managed to forget over the last few days just what a shit hole she lived in. Her once beautiful house, her pride and joy, her symbol of all that she had achieved, the proof that she had escaped the curse of her family and not been pulled into their self destruction, had been ruined.

The flowers scattered around the living room mocked her with their wilted petals. They had been bright and vibrant when she had last seen them, two days ago, but neglect had caused them to wither more rapidly than they should. Mary was sure there was a metaphor in there somewhere but couldn't summon the energy to find it.

How had she managed to forget about the flowers? Why had no one moved them? Was she the only one who cared enough about her house to tidy up, to put anything away? And where was every one?

She collected the various arrangements, carried them into the kitchen and set them on the table. At least the kitchen was in a state of near normality.

She sighed as she started sorting through the stems, finding the ones that might make it if given a little TLC or water, and those that were beyond help.

xxx

Ellen watched her brother from the kitchen window. She'd heard his car pull up twenty minutes ago and was beginning to wonder why he was still sat in the car.

She'd just decided to go and get him when the car door swung open and he stepped out. He looked drawn and pale. Ellen didn't want to guess what was causing him to look like that, but couldn't help recalling the early morning phone call that had lead to his and Mary's rapid departure.

She was surprised when Marshall walked into the room, the usual spring in his step and cheerful smile on his face. Gone was any trace of the defeated man she had seen get out the car. If she hadn't seen his face then, she would never have known there was a problem. Not a very reassuring thought for someone that had spent many years working for the CIA before transferring to Interpol. If he could hide his feelings from her, his sister and experienced undercover agent, he could hide his feelings from any one.

Marshall greeted his sister and went about making himself a drink, if he noticed her failure to acknowledge him, he assigned it to her work related issues rather than concern for him.

xxx

By the time Jinx returned, Mary was getting irritated with the long stemmed flowers. Every time she tried to move them they caught in her hair, when she wanted them to stand up, they fell over, when she wanted them to lie flat, they stuck up at odd angles. She was about ready to shot the heads of the little fuckers and say they had all committed suicide when her mom plucked one of the more irritating ones from her hand.

"Good thing you never wanted to be a florist," Jinx said as she began her own battle with the flowers.

"Yeah, I'll cross that off my list of alternative careers," she agreed as she sat at the table, "Where is everyone?"

"You mean where is Raphael?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Mary acknowledged.

"I don't know, he was here when I left for my meeting," she paused in her flower arranging to watch Mary as she spun off the chair and started pacing.

"Typical!" she barked, "I'm away, working, for two days and he's not even here when I get back!"

"Were you?" Jinx asked quietly.

"Was I what?"

"Working?"

"Yes, of course I was, Mom. Jesus, where else would I have been?"

Jinx didn't say anything, just shrugged. She knew her daughter was a workaholic and would never cheat of Raphael, but that phone call _had_ been odd.

xxx

Mary stalked into the living room and collapsed on the sofa, ignoring the fallen petals that covered the seat.

Her mom had gone to bed an hour ago and Brandi hadn't returned from wherever she was. Raph was still MIA but she was determined to wait up for him so they could spend some time together. She was hoping he wouldn't want to talk too much and they could get right to the sex. Jinx had been evasive when Mary had asked her if she'd told Raph about the phone call this morning. She hadn't managed to get a straight answer out of her before Jinx had begun a lecture on how important it was to be faithful and how she had always been faithful to James.

She was mildly insulted at her mom insinuating that she hadn't been working even though she hadn't been, in the strictest sense of the word. But for her mom to imply that she'd been using work as a cover for an affair? How typical of her family! Just because they would cheat on their partners, they assumed she would too. When were they going to realise that she wasn't like them?

She turned the TV on and sat flicking through the channels, angrily. There was nothing on. She felt her irritation move from a gentle simmer to a slow boil. The ever present irritation with her family, with Raph, with life in general, building. She took a deep breath as she told herself, again, that it was normal to feel frustration with your loved ones, they were family and there was nothing you could do about it so suck it up and get on with life.

Her mantra didn't have it's usual calming effect.

While she was repeating it, there was a little voice in the back of her head saying 'it's not normal'.

An image of the night at Marshall's sprung into her mind.

xxx

"_So, Mary, what first attracted you to my brother?" Ellen asked the first of many questions she had been dying to ask since she first met her brother's fiancée three days ago. _

_Mary looked up from the food she was piling onto her plate to see Ellen regarding her intently. She stole a glance at Marshall, who cocked an eyebrow at her, daring her to answer. She stuffed a sandwich into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, buying herself time to answer._

_What had attracted her to him?_

_She swallowed her mouthful and got more comfortable on the sofa._

"_He made me laugh," she told Ellen, much to Marshall's surprise. He hadn't expected her to come up with any answer, much less one that sounded plausible._

"_Yeah, he can be pretty funny when he's not trying to be," Ellen said as she picked the ham out of a sandwich, ate it, then ate the bread._

"_Mmm, I try not to encourage him," Mary said with a smirk at Marshall, who was suddenly looking decidedly uncomfortable at the idea of Mary and Ellen exchanging notes about him._

"_So how did he propose?" _

"_Actually, I didn't..." Marshall began._

"_What? Did you ask him?"_

"_No," Mary said, not wanting to co-opt the shambles that was Raphael's and her engagement onto her fake engagement to Marshall. She lied smoothly, "We both just sort of...came to an agreement. We were talking one day and it was just implied that at some point we'd get married. Neither of us corrected the other and then we found we would start sentences with 'when we're married' more and more until it was just a given."_

"_So how did he give you the ring?"_

"_I found it in my drawer one morning, next to my weapon, with a note on it saying 'It's yours if you want it'."_

"_Yeah, that sounds like my brother," Ellen grinned._

xxx

Mary smiled in remembrance of an evening spent in pleasant company, watching Marshall get more worried as she made up details of their fictional relationship. Her details had been just graphic enough to make Marshall blush but tame enough to be believable. It was a fine line and she had walked it with skill that night, throwing in enough truth about Marshall to make Ellen buy every word.

As she stared blankly at the TV, she couldn't help comparing her family to Marshall's. She wondered what it would have been like to grow up as Marshall's sister, to always have him there for you, not needing a promise made of words when you had one written in blood.

She envied Ellen.

Mary let her eyes drift shut, cutting off the sight of the couple on the TV having sex, but doing nothing to alleviate the noise they were making.

Where was Raph when she needed him?

The longer her eyes stayed closed, the harder she found it was to care where her wayward fiancé was. Her plan of waiting up for him and welcoming him home fell by the wayside as she lost the battle to stay wake. She fell into a dream filled slumber, with the sounds of the TV penetrating her mind just enough to influence the images in her mind.

Images of Marshall pinning her down.

Images of Marshall laying in bed, staring at her legs.

Images of Marshall panting beneath her, as she straddled him.

She was jolted awake by the sound of the remote hitting the floor as it slipped from her lax hand. She sat up, rubbing her eyes hoping to remove the images of her partner that lingered longer than she was comfortable with. She got up and stumbled towards her bedroom, cursing Eleanor as she went for planting the seed in the back of her mind.


	15. Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 15 – Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)**

It was almost midnight when the door to Mary's bedroom burst open, startling her awake. She reached for her weapon, instinctively, until she realised the man stood in her doorway was Raphael.

"Jesus, Raph, don't you know not to scare me like that. I could have shot you!"

Raph stumbled into the room.

"Where have you been, anyway?" she asked, although she could already hazard a guess.

"Out," he replied.

"I know that, dumbass, I was kinda hoping for a location," she said as she watched him fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh, so _I_ have to tell _you_ where I am every minute of every day, but _you _don't have to tell _me_," he slurred.

"If I told you then I'd be breaking a couple of Federal laws, so unless you've done something that requires me to call my attorney..." she tried to joke her way out of the confrontation she knew was brewing.

"Oh, I forgot!" Raph ignored her attempt at humour. He'd been brooding all day, finally seeking solace at a local bar and now he was ready for fight. "It's not that you _won't_ tell me! It's that you _can't_ tell me! How very convenient!" He swung round to face her.

"What do you mean 'convenient'?" she narrowed her eyes, peering at him in the half light from the hall.

"It means; I know you lied to me!" he said, his accent getting stronger with each word.

Mary said nothing, there was nothing she could say.

"How am I supposed to trust you when you say you can't talk about work, when you go use it as an excuse for whatever you have been doing...?"

"It wasn't an excuse, I have been working!" Mary defended herself.

"Reeeally?" He swayed unsteadily as he leaned over the bed, challenging her, "Prove it!"

"You know I can't tell you..."

"That's right!" He declared, standing up and pacing back to the closet.

Mary struggled to hear what he was saying as he took off his pants, addressing the contents of the closet as if his newly acquired suits were a confidant, "She can't tell me where she was, her boss can't tell me where she was. Not because of some stupid rule. No! Because he doesn't know! Where were you that your boss can't know?" he asked, turning back to her.

Mary pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling a small child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, wondering who they could blame.

She wasn't give the chance to answer, however as Raphael continued sadly, "I never though you would cheat on me, Mary."

That was the final straw.

It wasn't just the final straw, it was the straw that was on fire and lit the fuse of Mary's anger.

Mary threw the covers off her and stood up facing Raphael as she yelled, "How dare you! How dare you accuse me of cheating when you went and screwed your skanky physio therapist behind my back! Just because you don't have the ability to keep it in your pants, don't you go accusing me of the same!"

Mary paused for breath, Raph looked suitably ashamed for a man reminded of his own infidelity.

"I'm sorry, Mary, but what am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to give me the benefit of the doubt and not hold me to _your_ lower standards. Did it occur to you for a second that I had a genuine explanation for where I was?"

Raph stared at her a minute, standing angrily before him, he could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. The image served to dissipate some of his anger.

"So, where were you then?"

"I was at Marshall's," she said, deciding to stick as close to the truth as possible, obviously with some details omitted.

"At Marshall's," Raph echoed in frustration, his voice tinged with resignation and irritation.

"Yes."

"You'd rather spend time with him than with me," he muttered, like a petulant child.

Mary kept quiet, not wanting to volunteer any information that wasn't required.

Raph would never know whether to hold the late hour or the alcohol coursing through his veins responsible for the next question that escaped his mouth.

"Are you sleeping with him?"

Mary stared at him. Shocked that he had even thought of the question let alone actually asked it. She wasn't sure how to respond. She was torn between giving free reign to the anger that had been building in her all evening and the strange feeling of resignation that settled on her as she realised this question was, somehow, inevitable.

Mary decided she just wanted this conversation, this fight, to be over with. She'd reached the point where she would normally have upped and left but that route of escape was cut off from her so she was forced to answer.

"Jesus, Raph!" she said quietly, "We've been over this; I'm not, and I never have cheated on you!"

Raph was sober enough to notice that she dodged the question, but couldn't stop himself from pressing for an answer.

"Did you?"

In the stunned silence following his inability to drop the subject, he calmly walked round the bed and got in, looking expectantly at Mary.

Mary stared at him in disbelief. Her mind frozen, paralysed by his audacity.

She considered how to answer, dismissing one idea after another until she caught herself. This was ridiculous!

Did he actually expect her to answer such a ludicrous question?

Suddenly her brain kicked back into gear.

Did he honestly think that he could come in drunk, accuse her of sleeping with her best friend then expect them to share a bed like nothing had happened?

Did he really think so little of her, that he though she would do that? With Marshall of all people? Didn't he know her at all?

She looked at him once more, still waiting expectantly for a response.

She took a deep breath before she answered, knowing this line of friction between them had to be killed now, or it would forever be a sticking point in their relationship.

"Marshall's my partner, I work with him. I have no desire to have sex with him," she clarified but even as she said it, she knew her denial lacked the conviction it would have held just the day before.

Raphael, however, appeared satisfied with her answer. The alcohol was impairing his judgment and making him unusually weary. He nodded, signally the end of the fight, and patted her side of the bed coaxing her back to bed before turning over and promptly falling asleep.

She gaped at him.

Who the hell did he think he was? Did he seriously expect her to just forget about the accusation he had made? Did he think that now his questions had been answered, all was right between them? Did it even occur to him that _she_ was pissed at _him_?

She considered expressing her fury by sleeping on the couch, but that would just punish her rather than him. She shook him, planning to wake him so he could take the couch, but the idiot remained stubbornly asleep. Finally resigning herself to having to share a bed with him for the night, she slid in next to him and turned her back, silently fuming and making mental notes for the fight they would have in the morning.

xxx

Mary woke twice in the night.

The first time, from a nightmare, that she could have predicted. She'd worked out months ago that they were triggered by going to sleep when she was emotional or overtired. That night's was no different. She lay awake, trying to remember some detail other than the pervading feeling of being trapped tempered with helplessness that was the standard outcome of her dreams, before drifting back to sleep.

The second time it was closer to day than full night and she was woken by a sleeping, yet amorous, Raph as he snuggled up to her and ran his hand over her body, obviously dreaming. Yeah, like that was going to happen. He was most definitely dreaming, in more ways than one. She threw his hand off her, not caring if she woke him.

She considered if it was worthwhile trying to go back to sleep. She hadn't got much sleep for a couple of nights. Her earlier nightmare on her mind, she weighed up the benefits of getting some more sleep, hopefully avoiding a nightmare that coming night, and disgust at sharing a bed with Raph.

For once she compromised. She got up and, taking the covers, moved to the living room where she reasoned she'd be able to get a couple more hours sleep before she had to go pick her witness up.


	16. Albuquerque, We Still Have a Problem

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 16 – Albuquerque, We _Still_ Have a Problem**

Mary stalked into the office, Marshall trailing behind her.

"You know, you didn't have to threaten the waitress like that," Marshall commented mildly.

"Why not? She was clearly an idiot."

"Yes, but that's no reason to threaten to..."

Mary spun to face him, "Whose side are you on?"

"I wasn't aware there were sides when it came to breakfast," he said as he walked over to the coffee machine.

They had stopped for breakfast after they had handed Mike over to the marshals that would be accompanying him on the flight to Spokane. In retrospect, it should have been obvious that that was a bad idea. Mary had been in a foul mood all morning, snapping at him for the most innocuous remarks. He should have known better than to take Mary into a public place when she was in that sort of mood, but he'd been hungry. He was still hungry, however, as Mary had taken an instant dislike to the waitress leading to her questioning the woman's competence in her colourful way and them being asked to leave the diner before they had chance to order. Still, there were plenty of other diners in Albuquerque, some of which they were even allowed to go back to.

xxx

Eleanor watched from Stan's office as Mary clattered and thumped her way round her desk looking for something. She was lifting up the stacks of paperwork that sat there and slapping them back down with more force than was necessary.

A movement caught her eye as another file hit the desk, spilling its contents onto the floor.

Another thud and this time she saw Marshall flinch at the sound. She smiled and continued her covert surveillance until Stan entered his office, watching Mary cautiously over his shoulder until he was out of throwing distance.

"What's up with her?" he asked when he saw Eleanor watching the scene through a gap in the blinds.

"Oh, she didn't manage to get her little problem taken care of last night, that's all."

"Huh?" he asked, puzzled. Eleanor just smiled at him and returned the blinds to their rightful position. As Eleanor vacated the office, Stan called, "What problem?"

Eleanor ignored Stan's question, figuring it would be more fun to let him work it out for himself.

"Marshall?" she called and had to suppress a smile as he flinched at the sound of his name. He really was on edge today.

"Yeah?"

"One of your witnesses called," she informed him reading from the notepad in front of her, "Amy. She said it wasn't urgent. She just wanted to find out how it was going. Said you'd know what she was talking about."

She watched as Mary suddenly became very still and Marshall looked in her direction. A look of silent understanding passed between them.

"Okay, I'll return her call tomorrow."

"So how is _it_ going?" Eleanor couldn't help asking.

"Fine," Marshall told her, doing his best to sound nonchalant and look confused by her question, like there was nothing going on.

That was all the confirmation Eleanor needed. Something was definitely going on. She let the subject drop. Mary may think she had Eleanor's number and could outwit her, but Eleanor knew she had a skill that Mary lacked.

Patience.

xxx

An hour later Mary's temper tantrum had subsided somewhat. The paperwork was nearly done and her coffee cup was empty.

She strolled over to the kitchenette and poured herself a cup, deliberating whether or not to ask Eleanor the question that had been plaguing her all morning. She'd considered asking Marshall for his opinion, but he'd see right through her question and while he'd give her an answer, it wouldn't be to the question she'd asked.

"Hey, Eleanor," she began.

Eleanor turned to face Mary as she leant against the filing cabinet.

"Would you ever accuse your partner of cheating on you without any evidence?"

Eleanor looked thoughtful.

"Are we talking about my John, or about some hypothetical man."

Mary tilted her head to the side, "Let's go with the hypothetical, for now."

Eleanor thought some more, "Has he strayed in the past?"

"No."

"Then no, probably not. Not without evidence."

"Yeah, me neither. So, I'm wondering why someone _would_."

"Maybe if they had a guilty conscience. If they have, or would do that, then they may suspect their partner of..."

"Huh. That makes sense," Mary acknowledged as she stared into space, contemplating Eleanor's reasoning.

Eleanor watched as Mary's attention wandered. She wanted to ask what was on the other woman's mind, what had prompted the question, but didn't know if she should. She looked over to where Marshall sat, just out of earshot of their quiet conversation.

Marshall was watching both women with interest. He could tell that Mary had asked Eleanor something personal and was torn between being hurt and jealous and joy that Mary was choosing to open up, even if it wasn't to him. He could only watch as she listened to Eleanor's response and considered the answer. He saw the curiosity and indecision written on Eleanor's face and silently willed her to pry a little, to get Mary to open up just a little more.

Eleanor saw Marshall looking at her, saw him incline his head a fraction encouraging her and giving her the courage to ask, "Did Raphael suggest you were..."

Mary's eyes snapped back to Eleanor, she considered the conversation and the one last night.

Finally she said, "He didn't _suggest_ anything. He came right out and said it."

Eleanor suddenly felt sorry for the woman before her. She'd caught enough fragments of conversations and snarly comments between the two inspectors over the last couple of weeks, that she knew Mary had told Raphael what she did and Marshall still hasn't happy about it. Eleanor could easily understand how the secrecy between partners could lead to problems. She'd been lucky with John, as an FBI agent there was less secrecy and she'd worked in the same field so had understood when it was necessary.

Still, rather than let her sympathy show, she fell back into the much more comfortable position of banter, "I was wondering why you didn't get you little problem taken care of last night."

"What little probl..." Mary trailed off as she realised just which 'little problem' Eleanor was referring to, "oh that. Geez, is it that obvious?"

Eleanor nodded as Stan stuck his head out of his office.

"Marshall, what are you still doing here?"

"I'm just finishing up..."

"It's Sunday, for God's sake. You've worked nine days, straight. Go home. Spend the rest of the day doing whatever it is you do when you're not here."

"He can't, Chief, he'll go blind." Mary had to add, causing Marshall to give her an evil look.

"Mary, I thought you'd gone," Stan said ignoring the exchange between the two marshals, "You and Eleanor should go too."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Mary said as she tipped the remained of her coffee down the sink and went to get her jacket.

She was nearly at the door when Stan called after her, offhandedly, "Oh, Mary, whatever 'little problem' you have that caused your mood this morning, make sure it's taken care of by tomorrow."

Mary stared at him, mouth open, as the implications of what he had just said registered. Then, she heard Eleanor snicker, which earned the woman her best death glare before she pulled the door open and stalked out with a confused Marshall behind her, departing in much the same way they had arrived.


	17. A Swing and A Miss

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 17 – A Swing and A Miss**

"So what are you going to do with your unexpected afternoon off?" Marshall asked as he and Mary stepped out into the Albuquerque sunshine.

Mary stopped, she looked up and down the street as she considered what to do.

Finally she said, "I have no idea."

"There's a talk on at the Rattlesnake Museum, if you're interested." Marshall mentioned as they headed to their cars.

"I was more thinking about seeing if I can get an appointment at the spa on short..." Mary halted, "Wait, did you just ask me on a date?"

"What? No! Why would you think that?" Marshall spluttered.

Mary narrowed her eyes at him and waited for him to either dig himself out of the hole he suddenly found himself in, or make it deeper.

"Ellen mentioned something about wanting to go. I just thought you might want to come with us. It's not a date. My sister's going to be there. What sort of dates do you think I take women on?" he scoffed as he regained the higher ground and went on the offensive.

"Okay, then." Mary continued walking, "You seriously thought I'd choose an afternoon in a sweaty room, learning about snakes over a half an hour in a sauna followed by..."

It was Marshall's turn to stop, forcing Mary to turn to look at him.

"What?" she asked.

"You don't see the irony in that?"

"In what?" she asked again, getting irritated. Marshall's unwavering stare made her review what she had said. Oh.

She shrugged, "My version includes a massage, does yours?"

"It could..." he tried to tempt her as he started towards his car again.

"There'd still be snakes, though..."

"At least one," Marshall snickered at the obvious innuendo.

"Get your mind out the gutter, Mann!"

Marshall smiled at her, a relaxed happy smile that neither of them normally had time for.

"You know the word sauna is a Finnish word that's percolated into common usage in every language except one. You wanna know which one?"

"You know, I really don't."

"Swedish. Swedish is the only language with it's own word for a sauna."

They parted as they reached the parking lot and headed to their respective cars. As Mary was unlocking the door to her probe, a thought occurred to her.

"Hey, Marshall? What's the Swedish word for sauna?"

Marshall regarded her over the roof of his car.

"Yeah, I should probably find that out," he admitted, sheepishly.

She laughed and acknowledged him with a wave as she attempted to open the door to her Probe.

xxx

Mary hung up the phone, cursing as she did so.

"Problem?" Peter asked, twisting to look at her over the back of the couch, careful not to disturb Brandi as she leant on him.

"I was hoping to get an appointment at the spa, but no one's answering."

"It's Sunday," he told her.

"So?"

"The day of rest..." he reminded her.

"Since when?"

"I believe it's mentioned in the Bible, so, for a little while now..."

"Seriously? Does anyone still buy into that pseudo-religious BS?" Mary asked.

"I think you'll find it's quite common," Peter said, "You'll notice I'm not working today, for one."

"Yeah, not everybody spends every waking moment at work, Mary." Brandi commented from her prone position before returning her attention to the TV.

"Jesus, when did the world become part time on me?" Mary thought for a moment, "What do they do instead?"

"It's common practise to send the day with your family and loved ones," Peter looked pointedly at Brandi, who beamed, making Mary feel suddenly nauseous.

"So how come you get the day off when your staff don't?"

"My staff have the day off," Peter assured her, confused.

"So where's Raph then?"

"How should I know? I'm his employer, not his keeper."

Mary paced up and down behind the sofa, arms crossed, searching for something to do. She needed to lose the tension in her somehow. If she couldn't get a massage, then picking a fight with Raph and the angry make up sex afterward would have been her next choice, but now she was denied even that as Raph was once again MIA.

Finally she collapsed into the chair next to the sofa, resigning herself to having to spend her afternoon with her sister and her sister's boyfriend. She reached for the newspaper and opened it with more force than necessary to ensure everyone was aware of her displeasure.

xxx

Peter was channel hopping, having wrestled control of the remote from Brandi after she had fallen asleep, when Mary said, "Leave that on."

He looked at the screen.

"Really?" he asked, putting down the remote.

Mary shrugged with a half smile in his direction and returned to the newspaper she wasn't really reading.

Peter sat back, wondering what could possibly interest Mary in a repeat of _The Crocodile Hunter_. He watched, intrigued, as Mary kept her eyes on the newspaper, but could be seen surreptitiously listening as Steve Irwin explained just how poisonous the rattlesnake he'd just stumbled across was.

Steve's antics were interrupted by Mary's cell phone ringing.

"This is Mary," she answered.

"Hey, Mare," Marshall greeted her, "I've got something of yours."

"What?"

"A certain Dominican," he told her.

"WHAT?"

"Yeah, he showed up here, drunk, and tried to take a swing at me." Marshall's voice remained neutral as he relayed the information to his partner.

"He did what? Oh God! Is he hurt?"

"Define hurt."

Mary closed her eyes as she heard the Raph's voice in the background, whimpering quietly. With her eyes closed, she could clearly picture the scene at Marshall's; Marshall standing calmly using one hand to keep Raph pinned, effortlessly, against the wall while talking to Mary on the cell in his other.

"God, Marshall..." she breathed, "What did you do?"

"He's fine. A little bruised maybe. What do you want me to do with him?"

"Put him in his car and send him home."

"He's in no condition to drive, Mare, can't I just take him down the station and let him sleep it off there?"

"No, bring him here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Mary sighed.

xxx

The doorbell rang and Mary flew to open the door.

On the other side was Raphael either being propped up or restrained by Marshall, it was hard to tell. He looked, as Marshall had said, slightly bruised and Marshall had a cut lip.

"Jesus, Marshall, I thought you said he wasn't hurt," Mary said as she dragged Raph into the living room.

"He wasn't when I spoke to you," Marshall said without inflection, "We had some trouble getting into the car."

The trouble he had experienced was nicely demonstrated as Raph took a wild swing at Marshall, muttering something in Spanish as he did so. Marshall stepped out of reach without effort and just looked at Mary as Raphael ended up on the floor. The thud of his dead weight hitting the ground caused Peter and Brandi to look up and rush over to help.

Mary watched as her sister and Peter helped Raph to the couch. She grabbed Marshall's arm and dragged him toward the door so they could speak privately.

"You okay?" she asked as she raised a hand to touch his lip.

He turned his head away, avoiding her touch.

"What are you going to with him?" he enquired, avoiding the subject as he watched Brandi fuss over Raphael.

"No idea," Mary admitted.

"He was throwing some pretty hefty accusations in my direction, Mare."

"Yeah, mine too, last night." They stood quietly, watching the scene in the other room. "God, I could really use a drink."

Mary lamented the fact her house had contained no alcohol since Jinx got out of rehab.

Marshall knew which direction Mary's thoughts had taken and offered, "I have beer at mine."

Mary considered the option. She looked back into the living room where Jinx had joined Brandi and Peter in their concern for Raphael.

"Hang on," she told him as she disappeared into her room.

When she reappeared she had her badge, gun and jacket in her hand, a bag with a change of clothes over her shoulder.

"Let's go," she said to Marshall as she slipped out the door, her exit going unnoticed by her family.


	18. Failure to Communicate

**AN: **About five days ago I woke up with the prefect Mary/Marshall scene in my head. I've been trying to write it every day since, but every time I go to, I find myself writing more of the build up to it. It was supposed to be in this chapter but I got sidetracked. Again. But rest assured, it _is_ coming...

Oh. And this chapter contains the merest whiff of a** spoiler for the season 2 final**. There's no mention of the events just an echo of a conversation that takes place, so it should be safe to read. Assuming there's anyone left that's spoiler free, that is.

* * *

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 18 – Failure To Communicate**

The drive back to Marshall's was conducted mostly in silence.

Mary spent the time considering her rather impulsive decision to spend the night at Marshall's. She acknowledged that she had made the call on instinct alone, a not uncommon occurrence for her, but the more she thought about it the guiltier she felt for leaving Raph. Her decision had been selfish, motivated only by her desire to escape her family. To not deal with Raph. She could rationalise her action by telling herself that Raph wasn't badly hurt, if he'd felt anything through the alcoholic fog that had obviously clouded his mind. Marshall wouldn't _hurt him_ hurt him, she knew that, but she still felt guilty for leaving him to the ministrations of her family without at least checking he was okay first.

Marshall was also deep in thought as he drove. The route from Mary's to his house was so familiar that it didn't require much concentration.

His mind was, instead, focused on what to tell Ellen.

She had been in the kitchen when the pounding on his front door had begun. He'd answered the door, surprised when Raphael greeted him with a fist to his chin rather than the more customary 'Hello'. Before Raph had time to throw a second punch he'd found his face pressed up against the wall in Marshall's hallway, his arm uncomfortably twisted behind his back. Marshall had considered taking the opportunity to do something unprofessional, after all he _had_ been attacked in his own home, no one would blame him, but that was the moment Ellen had emerged from the kitchen to find out what the commotion was. She'd seen her brother restraining a strange man against the wall, blood dripping from his lip and reached for her weapon.

Fortunately for Raphael, Ellen's gun was in a drawer in her room, not at her waist. Marshall had seen the movement and had quickly turned to reassure her and to tell her to fetch his phone. She had refrained from asking questions, too well trained to hesitate or question a direct order in a potentially volatile situation.

It had required both of them to get Raph into Marshall's car as Raph continually attempted to fight Marshall, his actions and not inconsiderable strength fuelled by rage and alcohol. Marshall had heard the accusations Raph had yelled at him, but had ignored them as he struggled to control him. Ellen had to have heard them as well, Marshall was just hoping that she'd been too focused on her task to pay much attention to the ramblings of a drunken man.

And if she _had_ heard...well, he'd have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

They pulled into the drive and got out the car, still not speaking.

As Marshall opened the front door, Ellen appeared at the end of the hall.

"Are you okay?" she asked her brother, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her.

Mary stood in the doorway, looking dejected. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself and she refused to meet anyone's eye, preferring instead to stare at the floor. Ellen took one look at her and gently led her into the living room and sat her on the couch.

She rejoined Marshall in the hall.

"What happened?" she asked, indicating Mary but including Marshall's encounter in the question.

Marshall considered his options; did he end the bet here and now and tell Ellen the truth or did he lie and hope for the best. He couldn't think of a single reason not to tell her everything, yet he was reluctant to end the charade without consulting Mary. He smiled at the irony in that.

Finally he said, "Can you give Mary and I a few minutes?"

"Sure," she said, "I'll just go for a drive...You need anything?"

Marshall held up his car keys, "My car needs gas."

Ellen glared at him, she should have known better than to offer. She snatched the keys out of his hand and left to explore the local gas stations.

xxx

Mary looked up as Marshall sat down. Her eyes travelled, unbidden, to his lips. The cut had stopped bleeding a while ago, it wasn't deep or serious, it just looked it. There was a trace of dried blood and a hint of a bruise surrounding it.

Mary wanted to reach out and touch it, touch him, but she didn't. Her mind recalled too vividly her previous attempt that had caused Marshall to flinch and turn away from her. It was obvious to her that he didn't want her touching him. Obvious from his reaction then and his posture now as he sat as far away from her as was possible on a two-seater couch.

He blamed her for getting hurt. Again. And why shouldn't he? She was the kiss of death for anything good in the world. She made everybody's life worse just by being in it. No wonder he was mad at her. Because of her, he had been punched and called an adulterer. According to her paranoid fiancé, Marshall was her lover, the other man, the dirty mistress. Huh. That wasn't right. What was the male equivalent? Master? Well that had a whole slew of connotations that weren't appropriate to this situation. And how dare Raph accuse either of them of that? Just because he had slept with Fat Judy he thought everyone was capable of doing something so disloyal.

God! She was so sick of all this BS! She just wanted to say 'screw you' to the lot of them. To Raph, to her family, to her entire sucky life. What did they care anyway? They only wanted her for her house, a convenient place to live. They didn't care about _her_! Raph had only wanted her for her body initially, but at some point she had allowed him to convince her that he wanted her for more than just sex. How had he done that? _Why_ had he done that?

It was obvious now that he didn't want _her_. If he did he wouldn't keep questioning her, asking her what she was doing all the time. If he loved her, he would just accept her, acknowledge that her job was a big part of who she was and move on, not ask her to give up the bits he didn't like or approve of. So why had he asked her to marry him?

She looked down at her engagement ring, twisting it around her finger, slipping it on and off. Her tan line was more pronounced now. She tried to remember when she had last taken it off. She hadn't taken it off at work for a while and she had slept in it at night. She couldn't remember the last time she had carried it in her pocket. Then it occurred to her; it was just before Marshall had stolen it from her to begin their fake engagement. She'd been wearing it for six days straight and she hadn't even noticed.

Suddenly, she didn't want to wear it any more. It was too much a symbol of Raph's claim over her. What kind of archaic idea was that? The thought that just because he had given her a ring, branding her as his, that he had any say over what she did with her body. Well to hell with that! If she wanted to have sex with someone, she damn well would! She wasn't going to take orders from some washed up baseball player turned used car salesman!

She thrust the ring into her pocket. Her anger ebbed away, leaving her mind empty of her previous thoughts. She hugged herself as she acknowledged the one thought that remained.

_God, I'm so lonely I could cry._

xxx

Marshall sat down next to Mary, careful to keep his distance. In the car, he'd been too distracted considering what to do about Ellen to notice Mary sink into this morose mood and do something to prevent it. It was only when he had turned and saw her standing dejected in his doorway that he had realised how badly she was hurting.

He leant his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. The throbbing in his lip had subsided somewhat, but he knew he was going to have a bruise there tomorrow if he didn't already.

At that moment he hated Raphael. He should have made his feelings know to him when he had the chance, his fists would have made the message abundantly clear. He didn't care about the bruise on his chin, that would heal, he was more concerned about Mary who looked so broken. He hated that Raph had managed to break her. He longed to reach over and comfort her, but he didn't dare. The exact cause of Mary's pain was unclear to him and as if she was suffering from a physical injury of unknown origin, he daren't touch her for fear of making any wound worse.

The analytical part of his mind was searching for answers even as the irrational part was screaming at him to hunt Raph down and make him pay for what he had done. But what had he done? What had hurt Mary so bad? He couldn't work it out.

She couldn't be worried at the thought of Raph being injured or she would have stayed at her house to look after him. The accusations Raph had flung at them both were hurtful, but not to the extent that Mary seemed to be in pain. Plus, she'd told him that Raph had said those things to her last night, which explained her foul mood this morning but not her current one. Accusing Mary of being unfaithful should only ever serve to make her angry and defensive, not sad and pensive.

He sat quietly, letting her work through whatever was on her mind uninterrupted.

Her movement caught his eye as she fiddled with her engagement ring, her actions betraying her building frustration. So Raph's accusal was at least partly to blame for her silence, he reasoned.

She shoved the ring into her pocket.

Marshall wondered what that signified. He'd noticed her wearing it over the last few days, he'd thought that she had kept it on as a reminder that it was Raphael she was engaged to as much as for the sake of the bet.

Ah. The Bet.

He looked over at her again and judged this was as good a time as any to break the silence. Especially as Mary looked like she was about to cry.

"Do you want to end the bet?" he offered.

"What? No."

Marshall pretended not to notice as Mary rubbed her eyes, wiping away unshed tears.

"You sure? We can call it a draw, I can explain to Ellen why Raph..." he searched for the words, "...umm...why he was here and you can go and fix things with him."

Mary muttered something he didn't catch.

"Sorry?"

"I said, 'Screw him'."

Mary finally met his eye. He was relieved to see the fire still burning there.

"I've done nothing wrong," she told him, "If he wants to fix things he can come to me and beg for my forgiveness. Until then, I'm not letting you out of this bet just because you can't think of a suitable way to explain your split lip."

Marshall smiled at her challenge and set about thinking up a plausible lie.


	19. Easy Like Sunday Evening

**AN: **To celebrate this story's 200th review, here's the chapter we've all been waiting for. May I just take this opportunity to thank everyone that's reviewed and to discretely point to the story's rating.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem.**

**Chapter 19 - Easy Like Sunday Evening.**

Ellen drove down the road. She had filled Marshall car with gas but was now in danger of having to refill it after driving around Albuquerque for so long, wondering how long was long enough for her brother to sort out what ever was going on between him and Mary.

Something was definitely going on between them. Mary had looked so forlorn when she returned, so unlike her. Ellen didn't know her well, but she could tell something was up with her. And she didn't seem the sort to overreact to a situation which hinted at something big. She hoped it was solvable, that her brother was able to fix it.

The more she thought about it the more she realised that whatever the problem was, it was personal not professional. That gave her some measure of relief. Mary and her brother probably weren't in any danger, physically, although she suspected her brother's heart would take a battering if he couldn't solve the problem.

Finally her curiosity got the better of her and she turned the car towards her brother's house. She wanted to know what was going on in her brother's life. She didn't get many opportunities to see him and catch up so she didn't want to waste this one. Plus, he had helped her with her problem and she wanted to return the favour if she could. Also, it was driving her mad not knowing who that man had been.

xxx

Ellen opened the door silently so that if there was still shouting coming from any part of the house she could slip out unnoticed. As much as she'd like to help her brother, she had no desire to get caught in the cross fire of one of his bad moods. She stuck her head into the hall and then took a full step inside the house when she heard Marshall's chuckle drift down the corridor. She moved toward the sound and found Mary and Marshall in the living room. Mary's eyes looked slightly redder than when Ellen had left but her spark had obviously returned as she teased Marshall about his lack of knowledge of the Swedish language. Marshall spotted Ellen in the doorway.

"Hey, do you know what the Swedish word for sauna is?"

"No, but I know that Swedish is the only language to have it's own word for it, everyone else uses the Finnish word."

Mary groaned and threw a cushion at Marshall.

"Hey! Why are you throwing things at me? She's the one that.."

Mary cut him off, "Good point," she said as she threw another cushion at Ellen.

Ellen picked the cushion off the floor and good naturedly threw it back at Mary. "Everything alright?" she asked Marshall.

He nodded at her and smiled his relaxed smile. The one that had always reassured her that everything would be okay.

She responded in kind and would have let the subject drop if not for two things; her curiosity and the image of a despondent Marshall as he got out of his car yesterday. She suspected what ever problems he and Mary were having were deep rooted and this afternoon's visitor was only the latest symptom.

During her drive a thousand scenarios had played through her mind, she'd reviewed as much of the last few days as she could remember and analysed them for discrepancies the way she would with a criminal case. She'd been surprised to find there were a lot of gaps in what Marshall and Mary had been telling her. She'd come to the conclusion that she'd walked back into Marshall's life just as he was having relationship difficulties and it had taken her until now to notice.

She took a seat and looked at Mary and Marshall seriously. Mary seemed to be watching Marshall, waiting for him to say or do something, what, Ellen wasn't sure. Despite whatever problems they were having Mary was obviously very attached to Marshall, she was relaxed and was sitting with her feet up on Marshall's lap, her shoes long since discarded. Marshall appeared physically relaxed as he stroked the top of Mary's foot slowly but Ellen could see his brain was anything but relaxed as it worked on whatever issue was running through his mind.

"So, what's going on?" Ellen asked when it was apparent no information was going to be volunteered.

Mary looked at Marshall, her lips pursed as she waited for him to answer.

Marshall sighed and let his head fall back as he said, "Ellen, as much as I love you and it's been great to see you, you couldn't have picked a worse time for a visit."

Ellen said nothing, knowing that Marshall would expand on his comment now he had started. He sat up straighter before continuing.

"Mary and I are going through a rough patch," he flicked his gaze to Mary who said nothing, waiting to hear whatever story he had come up with. "She cheated on me a while ago and...well, without going into detail, we got past it, but the guy, Raphael, didn't take her choosing me over him very well. He's been a bit...well, you saw him."

Marshall watched his sister to see if she was buying his story.

Two days ago Ellen would have accepted what Marshall said without even thinking about questioning it. But yesterday she had seen him hide his feelings so well, that now, she couldn't help but wonder what else he might be hiding. Suddenly she found she didn't like not being able to trust her brother. Yet even as she was disgusted by her own lack of trust, she considered his words from every angle. The reminder of her past indiscretion would certainly account for Mary's expression when she got home. An affair would explain the barely concealed hatred she'd seen in Marshall's eyes as he restrained the guy. If it was a while ago, that put Marshall's dark mood from the day before into perspective; he obviously wasn't as okay with it as he appeared. It all seemed plausible.

Ellen nodded.

She wanted to believe him.

She did believe him.

But...

"How long did this thing with..."

"Raphael," Marshall supplied.

"How long did this thing with Raphael last?" Ellen asked, wanting to know just how badly this woman had hurt her brother and assessing the potential for him to be hurt again.

"Too long," Marshall breathed.

Any doubt Ellen may have had about his story vanished with those two words. There was no way he could have faked the pain and sincerity in his voice. Even Mary seemed affected by them, looking at Marshall with a silent apology in her eyes as she was reminded of how much she'd hurt him. Ellen wasn't entirely satisfied that Mary wouldn't hurt Marshall again, but that was his choice to make so she let the subject drop.

"I brought tacos, who wants some?" she asked as she moved into the kitchen.

As she left she missed the triumphant look that Marshall gave Mary and the subsequent slap his arm received.

"Ouch, what was that for?"

"For telling your sister I cheated on you. Now she's going to hate me!"

"Who said she liked you in the first place?"

xxx

Marshall lay in bed, trying to read his copy of the Webster's Timeline History of the Sauna. Trying, however, was the operative word in the sentence. Mary lay next to him, distracting him. Normally when Mary distracted him it was by talking or poking him or throwing things or some other childish pursuit that would prevent him from concentrating. Tonight was different. She'd found a new way of distracting him and she probably hadn't even realised it.

She was laying next to him staring at the ceiling in silence, deep in thought. And it was driving him crazy.

Suddenly she turned over so that she was facing him and just that little bit closer.

He reminded himself to breathe.

"Do you want sex?"

Yeap. She'd finally done it. She'd driven him mad. Now he was hallucinating.

"Huh?"

"Do you want sex?" she repeated.

"In general?" he attempted to clarify, surprised when his voice sounded normal.

"No. With me. Now."

Breathe.

"I can't."

"What do you mean 'can't'?" She propped her head up on her hand so she could watch him better. "Oh. Can't as in _can't_?"

"What? No!" he squeaked. He cleared his throat and looked her in the eye. "Believe me when I say I _can_," he told her in his most seductive way and was rewarded with a predatory smile from her. Then in a moment that he would later classify as inspired genius, added dismissively, "Not that _you'll_ ever find out," and returned his eyes to his book.

"Hmm. That sounded like a challenge to me, Marshall Mann."

It took every ounce of control he had not to respond to the way she said his name.

"You can take it anyway you want, but I'm not going to have sex with you."

Mary looked away. She'd thought he'd jump at the chance to have sex with her. Most men did. And she really wanted sex. If Raph wasn't such an idiot, she'd be having sex with him right now. But he'd lost her respect the instant he'd accused her of cheating on him and with her respect went any visitation rights he may have had to her body. Still, he'd brought it on himself and now he'd just have to learn to live with the consequences.

"Why not?" she asked after a moment.

Marshall was just about to open his mouth to answer when he felt her hand on his stomach, tracing lazy circles.

"It's got to be more interesting than reading about saunas," she pointed out.

"Of that, I have no doubt," he agreed.

She inched closer to him, so that the front of her body was almost touching his side. She pulled the book down, forcing him to stop reading. He allowed her to take the book out of his hand and place it on the table on the other side of him, brushing her breasts against him as she did so.

Mary didn't fail to notice his breath hitch as she leant across him slowly or that, as she returned to her former position, his eyes were closed and his jaw tense.

"Marshall?" She ran the back of her fingers down the side of his face.

His eyes sprung open and met hers instantly. She could see that all his higher brain functions had shut down. Marshall was operating purely on his primal desires. And the desire in his eyes was entirely focused on her.

She bit back the gasp that threatened to escape her lips.

He hadn't moved from where he lay, leaning against the headrest, yet Mary had never felt more wanted as she did in that instant.

He stroked the side of her face tenderly, letting his hand trail down to her shoulder. It lingered there a moment while Marshall looked at Mary. The raw desire in his eyes had diminished slightly as his brain regained some semblance of control.

Mary found herself to be disappointed at the loss. She leant forward and kissed him gently on the lips, a calculated move born from knowing the simplest way to reach his lips was to lean forward so her entire body pressed against his. As she pulled away, she smiled as she saw she had achieved her goal. Her smile was short lived, however, as almost as soon as she had regained her position on her side she discovered Marshall's hand on her hip, pushing her backwards, forcing her onto her back. Marshall followed her movement so he was hovering above her, his weight supported by his forearm braced against the mattress. His right hand remained at her hip, where it was slowly working its way under her top.

Mary almost panicked at the sudden removal of control from her hands, but then her mind was occupied as Marshall kissed her, lowering himself so that their mouths just touched. The kiss was slow and tortuous. It was nothing like Mary had imagined or wanted. She wanted fast and frantic to allow her to sate her desires as quickly as possible then leave, like she normally did. But Marshall was having none of that. He kissed her slowly, silently telling her that if she wanted him this way then it was going to be on his terms.

He moved his mouth to her neck then onto her shoulder, pushing the strap of her top out of his way. She showered him with frenzied kisses, her hands groping and clawing at his back, desperate to pull him closer, to step up the pace, to regain her precious control.

"Shhh. Slow down," he whispered in her ear, halting her actions.

She forced her hands to remain still, and tried to be patient as he resumed his kissing then adjusted his position. He sat up, swinging his leg over her so he could straddle her. He grinned at her playfully as he ran his hands up from her hips, gathering her top in his hands as he went. She raised her arms so he could remove it with ease. She reached for his t-shirt only to have her hands swatted away as Marshall leant back in to kiss her again.

She reached for him again but again he stopped her. He stopped his exploration of her body to look at her.

"Stop fighting me," he told her, "Relax, it'll be much better if you relax. Trust me."

Mary stared at him for a long while.

He stared back.

Neither of them moved until Marshall felt Mary's body relax beneath him, then he removed his t-shirt in a single motion and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of Mary hands on his chest.


	20. Idiocy Loves Company

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 20 – Idiocy Loves Company**

Ellen sipped her coffee.

She'd had another nightmare in the early hours of the morning. For an instant after she woke up she'd considered waking Marshall up too. She'd quickly dismissed that idea when she remembered the sounds coming from her brother's room last night. She figured his need for rest this morning outweighed her need for comfort. Instead, she had settled for an early morning and a lot of coffee as a substitute for her brother's calming presence.

She was pouring her third cup when she heard movement. A moment later Mary and Marshall appeared in the kitchen. Ellen poured each of them a cup as well.

"So did you find out the Swedish word for sauna," she asked her brother with a knowing smirk.

"Ah, no," Marshall's eyes flicked to Mary, "I...uh...I got distracted."

Ellen watched as Mary tried to hide her blush behind her hair.

"Really? By what?" Ellen asked innocently.

Mary almost choked on her coffee.

Marshall grinned at Ellen, used to her teasing and silently saluting her skill at embarrassing Mary. Ellen brushed past him as she sauntered out of the room on her way to get dressed. As she past him she paused and whispered, "Did you have fun?"

Marshall's grin only widen in response.

xxx

Marshall sat at his desk staring at the file in front of him. It detailed Mary's newest witness who they were due to pick up the following day. Or at least that's what Stan had told him. Marshall hadn't actually read any of the file, he was too distracted.

The normally calm marshal was getting increasingly agitated as the morning wore on. He'd been okay in the car, content to let Mary drive, happy to gaze out the window at the familiar scenery on his route to work. The first hour at work had passed easily enough, he'd spent that chatting with Eleanor and Stan and they had provided plenty of distraction. Now however, he was supposed to be focused on work and he was failing miserably. He was finding it hard to sit still let alone take in information. He resisted the temptation to look at Mary, sitting opposite him engrossed in her work.

Mary hadn't said much to him this morning. He had known that this morning would be odd and a mite uncomfortable. He'd woken up with a naked Mary sprawled against and across him. The day had to be downhill from there, it certainly wouldn't - couldn't get any better. They had got ready for work companionably enough, Mary's early morning sluggishness preventing her from freaking out too much.

Ellen's comments this morning, while amusing, hadn't been helpful. Marshall knew they had had an impact on Mary's thinking and she'd been steadily retreating into herself since then. Marshall wanted to be able to say something to draw her out, but had no experience, no frame of reference for this scenario. He was having enough trouble getting to grips with the previous night himself so he found himself unable to give Mary whatever it was she needed.

He glanced around the desk, searching for something that would hold his attention and could stop him from replaying images from last night in his mind. He fiddled with his computer again, half hoping that it would flash up a warning, an urgent message that would require his attention. Something that would take him out of the office to somewhere he could burn off some of his excess energy. His wandering eyes alighted on a note from the day before reminding himself to return Amy's phone call. Well, he could go one better than that.

Slamming the file closed, he stood and declared, "I'm going to check on Amy, I'll be back later."

Mary didn't even lift her head to acknowledge his leaving. She heard him go, relieved to have some time to herself without Marshall's fidgety presence.

She'd spent long periods of time with him in the past, but over the last week she'd spent more time with him than she ever had before. Her eyes wandered to her calender as she calculated that she had spent five out of the last six nights with him on top of their usual working day. Once that statistic registered, she was amazed that she hadn't killed him, or he, her. She couldn't think of many people that she could spend that amount of time with without being indicted on a homicide charge. She knew from experience that she couldn't spend that much time with Raph without wanting to slap some sense into him.

Oh God.

Raph.

What was she going to tell him?

She'd never been unfaithful before. She'd never even considered herself capable of it. But then she'd never been in a relationship long enough to be unfaithful. The moment someone new had caught her eye, she'd move on to them and kick the previous guy to the curb.

She wanted to be able to say she'd forgotten about Raph, that she'd been drunk and didn't know what she'd been doing. However, she knew that to be a lie. She'd been lonely and hurting from Raph's mistrust of her. Part of her had wanted to hurt him back. Part of her had wanted comfort. Part of her had wanted to feel loved. Part of her was curious. Part of her was just plain horny and had wanted Marshall.

At some point last night she'd decided she may as well be hung for the sheep as the lamb. If Raph believed she had slept with Marshall and she was going to have to deal with the fallout from her supposed indiscretion, then she may as well have the benefit of actually having sex with Marshall.

And it had been worth it.

Sort of.

She'd had fun last night, it had been a new experience for her.

But it had been...different.

In the cold light of day, the more she considered the previous night the more she was left with a sense that she had been violated in some way. Like Marshall had stolen a piece of her. And he was never going to give it back.

As she doodled on the pad in front of her she couldn't help but compare Raph and Marshall. She'd let Raph take control in the past but it had always been just that. She'd _let_ him have control. Marshall had been _in_ control. She'd had no say in the matter. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Last night she'd thought she had been in the driver's seat. After all, she'd been the one to initiate sex. Marshall hadn't wanted to at first and she'd persuaded, seduced him. That put her in charge, right? So when had she lost control of the situation? She replayed snippets of last night, searching for precise moment that Marshall had wrestled the reins from her grasp. She failed to identify it. Her memories were fragmented, blindingly clear one moment allowing her to recall the touch of his hand on her thigh, hazy the next as she writhed in ecstasy beneath him. The only thing her replaying her memories was achieving was to reignite her desire.

She'd resisted losing control with all her might in the past, not just during sex, but in her life as well. Now she wondered if she had been wrong. What would it be like to be able to hand a problem over to someone else and trust them, rely on them to solve it so she never had to think about it again. If the sexual equivalent was anything to go by it might be nice. Hell, last night had been better than nice!

She was swiftly realising that last night could become an addiction for her. She wondered if this was how skydivers felt. She'd never understood the desire to throw ones self out of a perfectly good plane, but now she could see the appeal of giving yourself over to something else. Giving up control to gravity, allowing it to pull you faster and faster to earth, the air rushing past you, the adrenaline pounding through your veins, trusting in only a flimsy canopy of silk to get you to the ground safely.

The only problem with her analogy was that she couldn't decide whether Marshall was the ground, gravity, the plane or the parachute.

xxx

"What? No! Why me?"

"You're a woman and so's Mary. You speak the same language."

"She's no woman, she's a..."

"Eleanor," Stan warned, "Play nice."

He shoved her out of his office causing her to stumble. She glared at him over her shoulder only to be greeted with the sight of him waving her towards Mary, as part of his none to subtle attempt to find out what was going on in the office.

She sighed.

Damn him. She wanted to know too, so she pulled up a chair next to Mary's desk and sat down. Stan closed the door so they could have have some uninterrupted girl-chat.

"Hey," Eleanor broached. Mary started at the voice next to her.

"Oh. Hey, Eleanor, I've got those S-nineteens for you somewhere." Mary rummaged through the papers spread across her desk, looking for the completed forms.

"Okay, but I was actually gonna ask about your afternoon off."

"Oh. You were?" Mary was relieved as she had just located the form and discovered it was covered in doodles. Then she remembered what had happened on her afternoon off, "Why? What have you heard?"

"Nothing, I just wondered if you got that...umm...issue with Raphael taken care of?"

"No, not as such," she hedged.

"Really? I thought you had, you obviously got your other problem..." Eleanor trailed off as she realised that she'd made Mary very uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry." She backed off, returned the chair to it's former position and went back to her desk, shrugging at Stan as she passed his window.

xxx

Marshall sat on Amy's front porch watching the world go by.

Amy appeared next to him and sat on the other chair as she handed him a tall glass of iced tea. He accepted the glass with thanks and took a long swig.

"So, everything okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, it's fine. I can't believe it's been almost a week since I testified and they still haven't reached a decision, but other than that I'm fine."

Marshall could see that she was telling him the truth about being okay. She seemed much more relaxed that last time he had seen her when he and Mary were transporting her to and from Houston. Then she'd been scared and nervous and had covered it by talking incessantly and adopting a bubbly, childish persona. It had driven Mary nuts on the drive to Texas but he knew his witnesses and had understood her fears and coping mechanisms and had help her where he could.

"So why'd you call?" he asked after a moment.

"Honestly? I wanted to make sure Mary was alright. I was watching this documentary on how REM sleep was discovered and it made me think of her."

"Ah, yes, yet another serendipitous discovery, this time care of Eugene Aserinsky..."

"You saw it then?"

"No, but I saw it advertised."

They lapsed into silence. Both sipping their tea as they watched a neighbour mow the lawn.

"So, is she okay, then? I mean have you..."

"She admitted she has nightmares," Marshall informed her, "but we haven't talked about them. Getting her to own up to them was a big enough step."

Marshall thought about the problem for a while.

"I don't think she's had one since the night after your testimony."

"What makes you say that?" Amy asked, curious.

"She's spent most nights with me..."

"Really? I didn't think that was allowed."

"It's not. But my sister..."

"Oh, that's right, I'd forgotten about the bet! How's that going?"

Marshall spent a few minutes telling May about the bet and the problems they'd encountered. He had her crying with laughter as he described the complication that was Raph. He joined in with her laughter as he recounted the conversation Mary had had with Ellen about his and Mary's supposed First Time. He sobered as he remembered that he'd actually had sex with Mary since then and Amy was quick to notice his mood change.

"What's up?"

"I slept with Mary last night," he revealed, staring at his hands.

"So, you did two nights before that...oh. You _slept with her_ slept with her!"

Marshall nodded as that seemed less binding than a verbal confirmation.

"And?" Amy prompted.

"And what?"

"What was it like?"

"Good."

"Good? Is that all you can say about it? It was 'good'?"

Marshall's smile told her he thought it had been better than 'good' and he just couldn't think of the words to describe it.

"But?" she prompted again.

"What makes you think there's a but?"

"There's always a but!"

Marshall ran his hands through his hair as he considered how much to tell Amy. He was surprised he'd shared this much with her, but he didn't have anyone else to turn to about this. He'd boxed himself into a corner with his lies to Ellen and he couldn't talk to Mary and work through his feelings that way, she had too much going on herself.

"I waited so long for her...And there's a good chance that as soon as Ellen leaves, she'll go back to Raphael."

"You'd let her leave without a fight?"

"I might. I don't know. I want her to be happy. If she's happy with him, who am I to stand in the way?"

"So why'd you sleep with her? If not to break her and Raphael up?"

"Because in a year's time, after she goes back to him, I'd be kicking myself for not taking the opportunity when I had it."

"Don't you think it'll be harder letting her go, now you know what you're missing?"

"Maybe. Probably. Yeah, I would probably be better off not knowing what she's like. But I can't bring myself to regret it. Not yet anyway. One day, maybe. Who knows?"

"She's a fool." Amy took a final sip of her drink. "But so are you. No wonder you're so good together. It's true what they say; idiocy loves company."

Marshall looked askance at her, "Don't you mean misery? Misery loves company."

"Bah! Close enough." She grabbed the two empty glasses and took them indoors.


	21. When Will I Be Famous?

**AN: **For those of you that haven't already found it, there's an extended version of chapter 19 posted as a separate story.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 21 – When Will I Be Famous?**

Marshall was still sat on his witness' porch when his cell rang.

"Where the hell are you?" Mary asked him, her irritation apparent.

"I told you, I'm checking on Amy."

"Yeah, well, you need to get back here."

"What's going on?"

"We need to go pick up a witness."

"Okay, I'll be there in twenty."

As good as his word, Marshall swiped through the security doors to the WITSEC office twenty minutes later. He found Eleanor at her desk, looking at him strangely and Mary and Stan already engrossed in a file in the conference room.

He ignored Eleanor's weird look, resolving to puzzle it out later and joined his partner and boss.

"Marshall, this one's for you. Darren Moloney, 45, a psychic," Stan began as Marshall entered the room.

"Seriously, a psychic?" Mary asked before Marshall had chance.

"So he claims, made a good living out of it too, has his own show on cable."

Mary and Marshall exchanged a look.

Marshall's look included an eye roll.

Mary took that to mean he was happy to follow her lead despite the fact Darren was going to be his witness.

"How the hell are we supposed to protect someone that has his own TV show?" she asked, enraged. "Someone that millions of people can recognise!"

"Please, he's on cable. I doubt even his mother watches," Marshall said with a smirk.

"Even so, you need to keep him out of sight for two weeks," Stan informed them.

"What happens in two weeks?" Mary was suddenly alert and skeptical.

"He's getting surgery so he won't be recognised anymore, then he'll be relocated."

"Wow, the Gee-Oh-Day is really pulling out all the stops on this one!"

It was Stan and Marshall's turns to share a look, this one mostly puzzled.

"The who?" Stan asked.

"The Gee-Oh-Day." Mary spelt it out from them like they were idiots.

"Would you, by any chance, be referring to the DOJ?" Marshall was quickest to decode his partner's rambling.

"That's what I said, Numbnuts!"

"If you say so..." Marshall conceded, with a look to Stan that screamed '_just humour her_'.

"What?" she snapped, having seen the look.

"You said Gee-Oh-Day," Stan pointed out, trying his best not to snigger.

"No, I didn't." Mary was adamant, "Why would I say that? It's harder to say than DOJ. I say DOJ everyday. Why would I get it wrong today?"

"Perhaps you're distracted," Marshall suggested.

"You're good, but not that good," she muttered, more to herself than either man.

"Huh?" Stan wasn't oblivious to the innuendo and thought it needed clarifying.

"Huh?" Mary echoed, playing dumb after realising she what she had said out loud.

"So...The witness..." Marshall was quick to move the conversation away from the danger area.

"Yeah, you need to go pick him up from San Francisco," Stan reluctantly turned back to the other man, while trying to keep an eye on Mary.

"Ah, The City," Marshall sighed, wistfully.

Stan ignored him, "Bring him back here and get him settled by three tomorrow so you still have time to pick up Mary's new witness."

"Seriously, a psychic?" Mary muttered just loud enough for Marshall to hear.

"Does he know we're coming?" Marshall asked Stan.

Both Mary and Stan glared at him for such a lame joke which caused Marshall more amusement than the joke itself. Just what he was aiming for. They lapsed into silence as they read the file, picking out the salient details. Stan left them to it.

"Why do we get lumbered with the crazies?" Mary asked when she was done reading.

"Technically, as he's my witness not yours, _I'm_ lumbered with him, and I suppose it's because I have experience," he said with a pointed look in her direction.

xxx

Marshall stood on the roof of the Sunshine Building, leaning on the wall as he spoke into his cell phone, "What did he say?"

"Said a transfer was a good idea and he'd start the paperwork."

"So, when do you leave?"

"This evening."

There was silence on both ends of the phone.

"Marshall?"

"That's soon," Marshall sounded disheartened.

"I know, but..."

"Yeah," he cut in, resigned to her leaving.

"What's wrong? You knew..."

"Yeah, I know, I was just hoping I'd get chance to say goodbye."

"I don't see why you..."

"I need to go out of town for a day or two," he told her.

"Oh," she sighed, "If it's not one of our jobs, it's the other."

"Can't you fly back?" he suggested.

"What about my car? Plus, I've intruded on you and Mary enough. You two obviously need some space to work through...whatever."

"Yeah," Marshall sighed. "Space," he said with disdain.

"I can wait until tomorrow," Ellen conceded, not wanting to disappoint her brother, "Although I'll have to leave before one if I want to stop in at Mom's on the way back."

"Yeah, okay. I'll make sure we have some time tomorrow so we can see you off." Marshall went to hang up then, as an after thought, added, "Hey, Ellen? Don't tell Mom about Mary, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Marshall hung up.

He leant on the wall, looking out over the busy street below him. He had a few minutes before they had to leave to get the jet to San Francisco. He didn't realise Mary was standing behind him until she spoke.

"Everything okay?"

He glanced over his shoulder to see her leaning against the table. How long had she been standing there?

"Yeah, Ellen's leaving tomorrow," he said as he turned back to the view.

Mary joined him. They watched the people below them in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other. Finally Mary pulled out her note pad and added an item to it. Marshall read over her shoulder, '_Say goodbye to Ellen_.'


	22. Lofty Problems

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 22 – Lofty Problems**

Marshall sat next to the window of the plane. He was hunkered down low in the seat with his feet resting on the chair opposite. His arms were crossed against his chest and his head lolled to one side with his eyes closed. To all intents and purposes he was asleep.

Mary knew better.

She sat across the aisle from him, flicking through a magazine and wondering if there was anything but ads in it. She reached the end and threw into onto the seat next to her. She leaned back in her chair, stretching slightly.

They'd been in the air for 30 minutes. Marshall had got comfortable and closed his eyes as soon as the pilot had said they could take their seat belts off. Mary suspected he was either worrying about his sister returning to work or just faking so he wouldn't have to talk to her. He'd been quiet all day, at least, when he wasn't fidgeting or discussing work. She knew that she hadn't been much better. The morning had started so well, it had seemed normal to wake up naked in Marshall's arms and they had shared the bathroom while getting ready for work companionably. They had chatted and laughed and it had all been so easy.

Ellen's teasing had thrown Mary off for a while and once she'd regained her footing she'd found that Marshall was also off balance. He was teetering on the edge and Mary didn't know which of the many things she wanted to say would push him off or which would pull him back.

She needed something that would allow her to test which way he would fall without him actually toppling.

"Do you think I should tell Raph about last night?" she asked.

Marshall only moved to open his eyes slowly and gaze at her sleepily for a long moment. She was actually asking for his opinion. Usually he'd just tell her what he thought and she'd either take his advice or not, as she saw fit.

He shut his eyes again. This conversation was going to be much easier if he didn't have to watch her, he knew her well enough that he could guess at her reactions and get it right most of the time.

"That depends," he told her.

"On what?"

"Why you did it."

Mary didn't reply.

Marshall sighed, "Infidelity isn't necessarily the cause of problems in a relationship, merely the result or manifestation of other problems. Like a rash, a rash can be a symptom allowing for diagnosis of say, meningitis, but the rash is not the cause of the disease. The rash won't kill you by itself, but by the time it shows there's already meningococcal bacteria running throughout your body causing other problems."

He opened one eye to see if Mary was listening. She was. He closed his eye again.

"Of course, sometimes a rash is just a rash," he added.

Mary considered his words, trying to work out if he had answered her question or not.

"You realise you've just compared having sex with me to a life threatening illness."

Marshall's lips twitched in response, "I know."

He looked at her again. To any external observer she was angry. Marshall could see it was an act.

"Meningitis causes fever, confusion and altered consciousness. If caught early it's is fully treatable, but there's a range of potential side effects from which one may never recover, leaving the sufferer a changed man. It's a good analogy."

Mary couldn't work out if she'd just been complimented or insulted. She returned to the original question.

"So you're saying that last night needn't be a problem for me and Raph, so I shouldn't tell him."

"I'm saying look at the whole problem, not just your actions last night but the reasons behind them, look for the cause. Therein lies the solution."

"Therein?" she snickered.

Marshall raised an eyebrow at her then closed his eyes once more.

Mary knew Marshall was right. She turned the problem over in her mind, looking at it from all angles until she found a new one.

"What do you think last night says about me?"

"I don't know, Mare. Are you asking if my opinion of you has changed? Or are you asking about how the world will perceive you?"

"Forget it."

Mary had been thinking about how her family would react to the knowledge that she had cheated on Raph. She'd been thinking about how she was just like them, a liar and a cheat. She'd been thinking about loosing the moral high ground. She hadn't thought about Marshall's opinion of her and how that might have changed. As soon as he mentioned it she found she didn't want to know.

She didn't want to know if her best friend thought less of her.

"What does last night say about you?" she asked instead.

"My actions could be interpreted in one of two ways; I've been secretly in love with you for years and took advantage of the only opportunity I thought I'd ever get, or I'm a guy and as such can't say no to sex when it's offered to me. Of course life isn't black and white so it could be anything on a sliding scale in between."

"Which was it?"

Marshall's eyes snapped open and pinned her with his gaze, "You really want to know?"

Mary looked away, once again unwilling to hear an answer to a question she had thought to be innocuous enough. She looked out the window next to her. Marshall shifted, slouching in his seat even more as he allowed his eyes to drift closed.

His attempt at getting to sleep was interrupted by Mary again.

"Why don't you want your Mom to know about me?"

Marshall sat up, giving up on any sleep during this flight.

"Mom wouldn't approve of you."

"What? Why not? Is it because of my family? Does she think I'm not good enough for you?"

Marshall was getting a headache from the sudden changes in direction this conversation was taking. First she was telling him, in a round about way, that she was going back to Raphael, now she was getting worked up over the idea that his Mom wouldn't approve of her as his girlfriend? Fiancée? Marshall wasn't sure where he stood.

"It's not that," he told her honestly, "She doesn't approve of partners..." He bit his tongue. He'd been about to say dating, but had managed to stop himself. He finished lamely, "...you know..."

"Oh," Mary said somewhat appeased. "But we're not..."

She trailed off as Marshall stared at her, obviously knowing where she was heading with her sentence and amazed that she would deny any relationship between them.

"We're not what? We're not engaged? We're not sleeping together?" He shook his head, "The former may not be true, but Ellen doesn't know that. And you can't say we've never slept together. We have. You had sex with your partner. You can't deny that. Not any more, Mary."

"So did you. You can't say you've never slept with your partner either. You can't hold me solely responsible!"

"I couldn't say that before last night, anyway," Marshall told her with a shrug.

"What?"

"Last night wasn't the first time I had sex with my partner," he spelt it out for her.

"You're kidding me right? _You _went against WITSEC regs and screwed your partner? How did I not know this?"

"It's not something that I'm proud of. I don't go round shouting it from the rooftops."

"Still." She paused, "What happened?"

"Would you like me to draw you a diagram? Although I wouldn't have thought you'd need one after last night."

"You can skip the details, doofus."

"We were babysitting a witness in Montana. There wasn't much to do in the safe house and we'd been there for two weeks. It was just something to do."

"Wow! You're really not the boy scout everyone thinks you are, are you?"

Marshall's lips twitched, betraying the fact he had a lot more secrets hidden in his past. Mary noticed and was intrigued.

"What happened afterward?" she asked curious and amused by her partner's less than perfect past.

"We both agreed not to say anything, but the witness let it slip and I was reassigned."

That sobered Mary considerably. The thought of loosing Marshall just because she had wanted to get back at Raphael for his accusations make her feel quite sick all of a sudden.

"Relax, Mare. I'm not planning on telling anyone. Not Raph, not Stan." The list of people available for him to tell was depressingly short and deliberately ignored Amy.

Mary nodded as she looked into his eyes, reassured slightly, until another thought occurred to her.

"I wasn't just 'something to do' was I?" she asked although she didn't know why his answer was suddenly so important to her.

"No."

"Okay then. So, did you do a threat assessment for San Francisco?"

"Of course."

"You wanna share with the class?"


	23. I Left My Heart In San Francisco

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 23 – I Left My Heart In San Francisco.**

They landed in San Francisco shortly before 6 pm. The Government SUVs waited on the tarmac for them. The drive to the motel where the witness was staying was slow but uneventful. Once there, they met with Darren's current marshals.

"Marshal Shepard and Marshal Miller at your service," Marshall introduced them to their counterparts.

"Marshals Hunter and Grey. Pleased to meet you both."

"What's with the sudden relocate?" Mary asked, eager to get down to business.

Marshal Grey looked taken aback by the rapid shift in conversation, but quickly got down to it, "There were several fires at motels in the area last night. We got confirmation from the SF fire department that they were deliberate, this morning. The move is a precaution just in case there's similar attacks tonight."

"Do you think they're related to your witness?"

"Not sure, but we're not taking any chances."

"Is he ready to go?"

"Yeah."

Mary looked at Marshall, "We good to go?"

Marshall nodded once and followed Marshal Hunter into the motel to collect the witness. Mary stood outside keeping watch with Marshal Grey.

"You heading out tonight?" he asked.

"Yeah, the jet's waiting."

"Okay, good." He nodded sharply. "I hate to loose a witness this way."

Mary shrugged, "It's better than the other way."

"True," he acknowledged as Marshall and Alan Hunter reappeared with Darren Moloney between them.

As Marshall escorted Darren into the back of the SUV, Marshal Grey handed Mary a folder containing the extra details that they hadn't had chance to receive before they had left for San Francisco. Mary handed the folder to Marshall as soon as she got into the car. He stashed it in the glove compartment, intending to read it on the first leg of their journey to Albuquerque, via the indirect route devised by Stan.

With Mary driving, they arrived back at the jet in record time. The marshals on guard there reported no problems and the pilot was happy to leave a few minutes ahead of schedule.

Once in the air, Darren sat staring out the window, looking forlorn, as they flew over the outskirts of the city. Marshall had started reading the file as soon as the door was closed and the plane was in motion. Mary sat next to him.

"What we got?" Mary asked when she judged that Marshall had had enough time to read everything.

"He wasn't down to enter the program until today. The DOJ was hoping they could keep him close and get a quick indictment against Markus on account of the kidnapping..."

"Huh? What kidnapping? That wasn't in the other file!"

"Our friend, Darren, back there, was kidnapped two weeks ago by Markus who wanted to contact the other side."

"The other side of what?" Mary asked, puzzled.

"The Other Side," Marshall emphasized in a cheap, horror, B-movie type voice.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"'Fraid not. It seems Markus had arranged for a colleague to collect a shipment of crystal meth on his behalf, but something went wrong. Apparently, the colleague was tipped off by a friendly agent that the FBI was waiting for him to deliver it to Markus. The colleague stashed the drugs somewhere and then inconveniently went and got himself killed before he could tell Markus where."

"So Markus kidnapped Darren thinking he'd be able to contact this unnamed man and find out where the drugs are."

"Yeap."

"Man, that's screwed up."

"Yeah, and in trying to contact the spirit of his colleague, Markus inadvertently revealed a lot of details about his operation and who the leak in the FBI was."

"So even though the DOJ knew about the leak, they still kept Darren in San Francisco? What were they thinking?"

"Who knows how their minds work? But it looks like the sudden spate of arson in the area was enough to light a fire under them."

Mary ignored the terrible pun, focused on the issue at hand, "Why doesn't anyone know this other guy's name?"

Marshall returned to the file, still smiling at his joke, "It's not stated in here, but I suspect he was FBI too."

"Undercover?" Mary suggested.

"Maybe. Maybe an undercover agent gone native. Who knows?"

"If that's the case, the FBI would certainly want that covered up. Do you think they were the ones that wanted Darren to stay in San Francisco?"

"Could be. It's going to make our jobs much harder, either way." Marshall leant back, unconcerned by the difficulty of the task.

"Should we change our travel plans?"

"Stan made all the arrangements for when we left San Francisco. He's got us changing planes in Minneapolis for the flight to Oklahoma City, a road move to Tulsa then another plane to Albuquerque. We should be fine."

Mary considered the plan in the light of the new information on who their witness was testifying against.

"Okay," she finally agreed, trusting that Stan wouldn't have let anyone else know their route and knowing that they would be difficult to follow.

"And we're staying the night in Minneapolis? Who arranged that?"

"Eleanor booked us into somewhere. She'll send us the details when we land."

"Details about what?"

Mary and Marshall looked up from their private conference to see Darren leaning on the back of the seat across the aisle. He collapsed into the nearest chair.

"Details about where we're staying tonight," Marshall told him, seeing no reason not to keep him in the loop.

"You don't know where we're staying yet? We're just going to land and hope that somewhere has a room available?" Darren practically whined.

Mary and Marshall exchanged an exasperated look.

"We find it better to have some flexibility to our plans, it's easier to protect you that way," Mary explained.

"I don't want to be protected. I want to go home," he told them, still sounding like a five year old.

"You can't go home," Mary said, "there are people there that want to kill you."

"I don't care. I know what awaits. The afterlife doesn't scare me. If I was home then I could still be with Simon."

"Simon?" Mary mouthed to Marshall who surreptitiously started looking through the folder for a Simon.

"Who's Simon?" Marshall asked gently, seeing no mention of him in the file.

"Simon is my love. My lover. My heart. My everything."

"If you give us his details, we can bring him into the program with you. This sort of thing can be much easier if you have a partner to lean on..." Mary began, wondering why no one had explained to Darren that he could bring a loved one with him.

"No, you don't understand." Darren cut in, "Simon is in the spirit world. He's attached to the house in San Francisco, he can't just change location like you or I can. He has to move through the spirit realm. He had to fight just to stay with me after his death and now he may never find me again. What am I going to do without him?"

Mary and Marshall sat looking at their witness with their mouths open. This was a new one for them.


	24. A Delicate Situation

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 24 – A Delicate Situation**

Mary walked out of her bedroom.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

She walked into the kitchen, expecting to see Jinx, Brandi, Raph, maybe even Peter.

It was empty.

The fridge made it's usual humming noise. There was washing up in the sink. The faucet was still on and the sink was beginning to overflow. She turned it off. Where was everybody?

She moved into the living room. The sofa cushions were dented, like someone had been sat there only moments before. The door was open, forgotten, left swinging in the breeze.

Where had they gone?

She left the house and stood in the garden. More evidence that her family had been here. There was today's newspaper spread across the patio table and Brandi's towel next to the pool.

Mary got in her car. It started without problem although she couldn't remember turning the key. Perhaps it had already been running.

She reversed out the drive and turned toward work. Stan would know what was going on. He'd help her find her family.

The drive to work heightened her sense of foreboding.

There were cars left idling on the roads. She had to manoeuvre around them. Nowhere did she see any people. There were no pedestrians, no drivers for any of the cars. It was like the whole of Albuquerque had just decided to leave.

Packed up and left, leaving everything behind.

Including Mary.

Where had they gone? Why had no one told her they were leaving?

She pulled into her usual parking space and ran into the Sunshine Building. She encountered no one as she entered the normally busy elevator. She frantically poked the button for the eighth floor. Stan had to know where everyone had gone, or Marshall would tell her. _They_ wouldn't leave without her.

She swiped her card through the reader and waited impatiently for the second it took to register. Her eyes were already raking across the office, looking for signs of movement. She pushed the door open and ran into the office.

Empty.

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she tore from room to room making sure Marshall wasn't there. She checked the conference room twice, despite the walls being made of glass. She looked under desks and in the men's room. He had to be here! He wouldn't leave without her!

She raced out onto the roof. The only place she hadn't searched.

It was just as empty as the rest of the office.

She looked out over the deserted city as she felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

She wiped them away angrily. She turned back to the office and went inside. She wasn't going to be defeated! She wasn't going to be left here without a fight!

She moved to Marshall's desk, looking for a clue as to where he had gone. He wouldn't leave without telling her. And if he couldn't tell her for some reason, he'd leave a clue for her. Telling her where to look for him.

She searched his desk, rummaging through familiar forms and witness descriptions. She didn't have to search long before she spotted the post-it stuck to his computer screen.

_Gone to say goodbye to Ellen._

_Back later._

Of course. That's where everyone was.

She ran to the elevator, hoping she wasn't too late and not in the least reassured by his assurance he'd be back later. She pushed the button repeatedly, knowing it wouldn't speed the elevator up, but trying anyway.

Finally, the doors opened and she stepped in, watching as the doors closed behind her.

When the doors opened again she was outside Marshall's house.

She ran up the drive, not stopping to consider how she had got there. She flung open the door and ran in. She didn't see him anywhere. Where was he?

She searched the rooms methodically, her training allowing her to complete the task in half the time it would take someone else.

He wasn't here.

She wandered back into the kitchen, lost as to what to do next.

She stood, forlorn, in the middle of the room. She was too late. Ellen had already left and she'd taken Marshall with her.

Mary looked at the table. There were two places set. The plates' half eaten contents indicated they had left in a hurry. She reached out and wrapped her hand around one of the coffee cups. It was still warm.

She'd only just missed them.

xxx

Mary woke up in a cold sweat. The sense of loneliness and betrayal stayed with her long after the specifics of the dream left her.

She didn't need to remember it. It was the same dream she'd been having since she was seven. The panic she felt of discovering her family was gone and the image of the empty city were familiar to her. The locations in the dream may change as she moved from town to town over the years, but the desertion was always the same.

The last bit had been new, though. Her inability to find Dream Marshall had left her more unsettled than she wanted to admit. Minutes after she'd woken up she still couldn't shake the feeling he was gone.

She finally gave in to her fears.

She slid out of bed and crept into the next room where Marshall lay sleeping. Careful not to wake him or the witness, she tiptoed to the side of his bed, needing to touch him just to make sure he was really there.

She reached out a hand but was prevented from making contact with him as she felt the cold metal muzzle of a gun pressed against her stomach.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't," Marshall threatened without opening his eyes.

"It's me, Marshall," she reassured him.

Marshall's eyes flew open, checking it was her.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he lowered his weapon, but didn't put it away, ready for what ever Mary was about to tell him.

"Nothing, as far as I can tell," she said, businesslike before slipping into the tone she used to indicate a personal problem, "I just woke up."

"Nightmare?" he enquired, sitting up slightly.

"Kinda," she sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

"Wanna talk?"

"Not really."

"But you felt the need to check on me," he teased her gently, "Ah, that's sweet, Mare."

"I just wanted to make sure you were still here."

"And you couldn't do that from the door? What was so important you had to risk you life by getting this close?"

"I wanted to check you were real," she admitted, studying her hands intently.

"Even though you know I sleep with a loaded gun."

"I know. But it proved you were real!" She smiled slightly.

Marshall could tell from her voice she was still upset and not entirely convinced of her own words. He reached over and took her hand. He placed it on his cheek.

"I'm here," he whispered. He placed a kiss on her palm, "I'm real." He moved her hand so it was resting on his chest, over his heart. She could feel the faintest trace of his heartbeat. "I'm alive," he told her and released her hand.

She let it linger over his heart as she stared at it, then she skimmed it across his chest to his shoulder, caressing him and reassuring herself. She ran it down his arm, squeezing it gently before she let go.

She looked back at his eyes which were watching her carefully.

"Okay then. Make sure it stays that way."

"I'm also tired. Go back to bed, Mare." He tucked his gun back under his pillow.

"I won't be able to sleep."

"Nothing like having a near death experience to make sure you're awake."

"Yeah," she said noncommittally, indicating that wasn't the reason.

"You got your piece on you?"

Mary shook her head.

"Go get them," Marshall told her, sounding resigned.

When Mary returned she was surprised to see Marshall on the far side of the bed. He threw the covers back and indicated for her to get in.

"You can keep guard if you're not going to sleep."

He watched as she sat on the bed, back resting against the headboard, knees pulled up close so she was tucked into a ball, arms crossed and resting on her knees. In one hand she held a Glock, the other was resting on the bed next to her. She was obviously still upset about whatever the dream was that had woken her. He wanted to reach out to touch her, to stroke her, to tell her everything would be okay, but her current defensive posture told him not to, even if he had been able to find a part of her to touch that would have been interpreted as friendly rather than sexual. He didn't think running his hand down the back of her thigh, the only part of her he could reach, would send the message he wanted.

He would just have to rely on the old standby.

He reached out to her with his voice, "But if you shoot me in your sleep, I'm not going to be happy...You'll never hear the end of it, after all I've got my own psychic, now."

"Shut up, doofus, and go to sleep."

xxx

Mary woke a few hours later.

She was instantly alert.

There had been a noise.

She took stock of her position. In bed with Marshall, her arm bridging the gap between them as it rested on his side. She'd only intended to get more comfortable when she'd laid down next to him, not fall asleep.

Well, she wasn't asleep any more. Why was that? What had she heard? She looked over at Marshall. His even breathing and relaxed posture screamed 'I'm asleep' to any one but her. Mary felt her senses heighten as she realised that whatever had disturbed her sleep had also woken Marshall. She stroked his side with her thumb. A deliberate movement to tell him she was awake. Not their usual code but she knew he would understand.

Was that a voice? A whisper?

Voices on the other side of the door could only mean one thing. Two or more people.

She tapped Marshall gently with two fingers. He nodded in the dark. She removed her hand and slid it under her pillow where her weapon awaited her. She turned so she was facing the door. Marshall silently rolled off the bed and lay on the floor, obscured from the view of any one entering the room.

They waited.

The door opened, briefly flooding the room with light from the corridor. Mary kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep and preserving her night vision.

The door closed.

They listened and waited some more.

When Mary felt the movement of a hand approaching her head, she pulled her weapon from beneath the covers and pointed it firmly at the intruder's abdomen.

"Whatever it is you're planning on doing, don't!" She deliberately repeated Marshall's words from earlier. The man stopped as he realised what was happening and put his hands in the air.

Marshall heard her signal and choose that moment to reveal himself.

"US Marshal. Freeze."

His piece was trained on the second assailant, as the man attempted to creep around the bed to reach the witness.

The second man reached for something in his jacket.

"Don't even think it, my friend," Marshall told him as he indicated the second piece trained on him, held by Mary.

Marshall switched his Glock into his left hand and reached into the bedside table, pulling out his main weapon, tucking it into his waistband. He then pulled out his handcuffs and eased towards the man, checking on the still sleeping Darren as he passed. He went through the standard procedure of making the man face the wall as he frisked him. He slid the knife and revolver across the bed to Mary, where she was keeping her attacker restrained through force of personality and fear of the weapon which had 'slipped' from his abdomen to point at a more sensitive area, lower down.

Once Marshall has happy that the man was disarmed, he handcuffed him and turned back to Mary.

"You need help there?" he asked sarcastically, although he was surprised that Mary didn't have the man properly restrained and interrogated already.

"My handcuffs are in my other pants," she told him, only half joking.

She had at least removed the knife from the man's hand, but hadn't been able to search him further without giving up her advantageous position. Plus, his hands were still in the air, giving her plenty of warning if he went for a weapon.

"You want me to go and get them?" Marshall offered.

Mary almost said yes until she remembered where exactly she had left them. She'd put them in her bag, not anticipating a need for them. Unfortunately, the section of her bag that she'd put them in also contained her underwear. Despite the fact they had worked together for years, seen each other in various states of undress during that time and spent the last week sharing a bed, she still wasn't comfortable with the idea of Marshall rummaging through her panties. She may have had sex with him but that didn't give him the right to manhandle her delicates. She just wasn't ready for that level of intimacy with him yet.

"No. I'll go. Can you...?" she motioned toward the man still standing at the end of her gun.

"All over it."

Marshall moved his assailant so he stood between the wall and the bed. Mary motioned for hers to assume a similar position with his hands on the wall. Then she got out of bed and disappeared into the room next door, leaving Marshall at the end of the bed cutting off any route of escape and covering both men with his weapon.

Mary quickly retrieved her handcuffs and grabbed her Blackberry as an afterthought. She dialled the familiar number and returned to Marshall as she waited for it to be answered.

"Hi, Stan," she greeted before handing the phone to Marshall. After all, it was easier to point a gun at a man one handed than to handcuff a man while on the phone.

"Hi, Stan," Mary heard Marshall say, "Yes, Stan, I know what time it is. We're gonna need you to wake some people at the Minneapolis branch up for us...Yeah, we've got a bit of a situation here...No, it's all under control, we just need someone to come and pick up a coupla guys. Also could you give Minneapolis PD a heads up?...Thanks, Stan...Yeah we'll call when we know more."

He hung up and threw the phone on the bed with the collection of weapons. He was already mentally reviewing what needed to be done. There was a lot. They had to do a security sweep. Move the witness. Wake up their witness, who was still oblivious to the commotion in his room. Find out what these two men had wanted, other than the obvious, what they knew and who had sent them. Change their travel plans. Find out how they'd been located. Oh and at some point he and Mary had to get dressed. All while keeping an eye on the two men until they could hand them over to either the marshal service or the police, whoever got there first.

He looked at Mary. She was obviously doing the same analysis.

"You want to check the rest of the place, or should I?" Marshall asked, deciding that assessing other potential threats was highest on his list of priorities at the moment.

"I will. I'll be less conspicuous than you," she said with a pointed look at his pyjamas.

As she was heading out the door Marshall called after her, "Hey, Mare. Next time you sleep with me, bring your own handcuffs!"


	25. Early Birds Catch Two Worms

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 25 – Early Birds Catch Two Worms**

Mary returned from the surveillance sweep to find Marshall in the same position she had left him; standing at the end of the bed, a weapon trained on each attacker. She allowed herself a moment to appreciate and admire her partner for his ability to maintain his posture and concentration for the time it had taken her to complete the sweep of the motel.

"Anything?" Marshall asked.

"No, I didn't see anyone else. But I did see a car pull away. It could be nothing..."

"Did you get a description?"

Mary shook her head, "Too dark. Standard, mid size, four door. A Pontiac maybe. Black or dark blue. Not enough to call it in."

"They're not saying anything," Marshall indicated the two men.

"We'll see about that," Mary muttered. "Jesus, where the hell are the cavalry?"

"Relax, Mare, they'll be here." Marshall looked over at the still sleeping Darren. "Should we wake him?"

Mary looked round the room, assessing the situation. "Leave him for now, I'll take over here if you want to get changed."

"Sure," Marshall waited until Mary had relieved him of his charges then grabbed his clothes from the bag at the foot of the bed.

Within seconds he was back, fully dressed, with his weapons trained on the two men. Mary used Marshall's cover to slip into the next room and get dressed herself. She returned and woke Darren up. Darren was shocked to find two strange men being held at gun point in his room. Mary quickly hustled him into his clothes and was just getting him to pack up the few items he'd used the evening before when there was a pounding on the door to the room.

Mary had her weapon out in an instant and moved to position herself between Darren and the door.

"Marshal service," a voice on the other side of the door called.

Marshall indicated for her to cover the two known attackers as he backed up toward the door and peaked through the eye-hole. Seeing the familiar uniforms and badges on the other side of the door he opened it and edged back to the restrained men.

Several marshals entered the room, guns drawn. Mary and Marshall reached slowly for their badges and held them up for inspection.

"We got a call saying you needed backup?" enquired the first man through the door as he put up his weapon and took a closer look at their ID.

"That's right," Marshall responded, not moving from his position even though there were now two additional guns pointed at his prey.

"I'm Inspector Kripke. What's going on?" asked the man who was obviously the senior marshal.

"We're transporting a witness and these two decided to pay us a visit. They brought gifts." Marshall indicated the gun and two knives laying on the unmade bed.

Kripke looked around the room taking stock of the witness huddled in the corner and the two unknown marshals. The phone call he had received from the Albuquerque office had been light on details. He'd just been told that a witness had been attacked and the out of town marshals needed help. Looking at the situation, it seemed like it was mostly under control and it was only a lack of manpower that was preventing it from being brought fully under control. He made a split second decision.

"Okay, he's your witness, how do you want to do this?" he asked, ignoring his boss' instructions to take charge of the situation.

"How many guys do you have with you?"

"Five and me."

"How far away are the police?"

"A couple of minutes behind us, I guess."

Marshall looked in Mary's direction and saw her nod at him.

"Okay, two of them take the witness into the room next door and guard him, two restrain this guy," Marshall pointed his gun at the shorter of the two men, "One keep watch of the corridor and you come with me."

"What about this guy?" Kripke asked.

"Leave him with Mary."

Marshal Kripke opted not to question and set about issuing orders to his subordinates. When they had distributed themselves to Marshall's satisfaction, he and Kripke left the room. Kripke looked over his shoulder to see Mary put her weapon away and approach the prisoner. He didn't see any more as the door swung closed behind him.

Once outside Marshall turned to him and asked, "Did I see a car rental place when we came in?"

"Yeah there's one across the road. Aren't you taking a chance with...?" he pointed in the direction of the room.

Marshall grinned, "What? You think I should have given him back his weapon? Make it a fair fight?"

Marshall looked at his watch; 4.54 am. He weighed the need to move his witness with the probability of being remembered hiring a car at five in the morning. He had to risk it.

"Yeah, I'm going to need you to hire a car for me," he told Kripke.

"Anything in particular?"

"No, just, big enough for three and nondescript."

"Okay, I'll be back soon," Kripke told him as he turned to leave.

Marshall returned to the motel room, unsurprised to find Mary pressing the unidentified man, painfully, against the wall in an attempt to get him to talk.

"Anything?" he asked as red and blue flashing lights signalled the arrival of the local police and the end of Mary's unauthorised interrogation session.

"Yeah, they got a phone call last night telling them to check motels in the area for a group matching our description. He won't say who from, only that they were ordered to get rid of us." Mary told him as she let go of her victim.

"You think Markus?"

"I don't see anyone else as a likely suspect. I doubt he even knew who's calling the shots. Whoever it is, I doubt they made just the one phone call. Let's get them handed over and get out of here."

"Not so fast," a woman said as she entered the room.

"Who are you?" Mary asked instantly on the defensive.

"I'm Detective Susan Cregg and you're not going anywhere until we get this cleared up."

"That's fine," Marshall cut in before Mary could open her mouth and destroy any goodwill before it existed, "but we're going to have to make it fast. Can we get him and his friend into custody? I'd rather not discuss matters in front of them."

"And you are?" she asked haughtily.

"We're with the US Marshal service." He flashed his badge at her.

Detective Cregg acknowledged the badge with an incline of her head and gestured for two of the cops with her to lead the man away. Mary and Marshall watched him go, both contemplating how much to tell this woman.

Once the room was clear of all but the three of them, Marshall started walking round the room, packing up his belongings with an efficiency born of many years of overnight stays in motels.

"You ready to go?" he asked Mary as he stuffed his pyjamas into his bag, hoping the detective didn't get a good look at them. His collection of weird and wonderful pants were for Mary's amusement only.

"I thought I told you that you weren't leaving until I was satisfied..." Detective Cregg reminded them none too subtly.

"Detective Cregg, I'm sure you can understand this is a very delicate situation here, time is of the essence. We need to move quickly to ensure the safety of the person or persons entrusted to us. We need to pack and call our boss to make new travel arrangements."

"You _need_ to answer my questions," she told them in no uncertain terms.

"Fine. I'll answer what questions I can, if you let my partner go next door and pack."

Susan considered this a while before acceding. Mary slipped into the next room and hurriedly gathered her stuff, content to let Marshall deal with the local law enforcement.

Marshall offered the police officer his hand, "US Marshal Marshall Miller," he told her now that it was safe to reveal his name. Even though it was a pseudonym, he hadn't wanted to say it in front of their attackers.

"For security reasons there's not much I can tell you, other than both those men entered this room with the intent to kill at least one of us. We prevented them and called you guys." Marshall saw Mary renter the room and signal to him that both she and Darren were ready to go. He turned to pick up his own bag, "Is there any thing else you need?"

"What? Wait! You bet your ass there's more I need!" the Detective said, furious that someone would just ignore her authority.

"Sorry, but that's really all we can tell you," Mary said with a superior smile as Marshal Kripke joined them in the room.

"Hi, Susan," Kripke greeted cheerfully, "I see we're both getting an early start this morning!"

"You!" Susan said, surprised at his presence, "I should have known you'd be involved!"

"A friend of yours?" Mary asked him.

"Yeah, we've met once or twice," Kripke told her with a grin hinting at a longer running acquaintanceship between the two branches of law enforcement.

"Can we leave you to finish up here?" Marshall asked as he took the keys for the rental car from him.

"Sure, maybe I can finally convince Susan, here, to buy me breakfast."

Susan huffed.

"Or then again, maybe not."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Mary called as she headed out the room to get Darren.

She bullied the scared man out of the room and down the corridor, trusting that Marshall would be at the vehicle and have it secured. She wasn't disappointed as Marshall stood in the parking lot monitoring any suspicious activity with the car idling next to him. She cleared her path to the car before exiting the building and hustled Darren into the back seat.

Both the marshals got into the car and Mary eased the car out onto the empty road.

Marshall leant over the back of his seat to rummage in his bag on the back seat, while looking out for anyone following them. He pulled out a map and his cell phone then dialled Stan's number.

"Hi, Stan," he greeted when the other man answered.

"Marshall, where are you?"

"We've just left the motel." He was distracted as he tried to unfold the map in the limited space of the car.

"What's going on?"

"Somehow Markus knew we were in Minneapolis, he sent some local goons after us. I think the fires were set to flush Darren out and Markus was watching the airport to see where we took him."

"So, what's your plan?"

"I think we'll drop off the grid for a few hours, make sure we're not being tailed," Marshall looked over at Mary to get her approval of his plan. She remained silent, indicating her consent. "Can you find out how they tracked us here, once we know that we'll be able to come up with a new plan to get back."

"Sure thing,"Stan agreed, then lowered his voice as if he thought Mary could hear him, "Do I need to smooth over any feathers in Minneapolis?"

"No, we should be okay, local WITSEC were very helpful. An Inspector Kripke is handling the local PD although we may need to reimburse him for the hire of a car," Marshall told him with a chuckle knowing how much Stan hated dealing with the paperwork associated with interoffice finances.

"You two are going to be the death of me! If it's not Mary and her unorthodox methods, it's you and unnecessary spending."

"Sorry, Stan, but they managed to track us from San Francisco in a jet, we needed something less conspicuous than a Pontiac that screamed 'owned by the Federal Government'."

Mary gave him a half smile.

"Yeah, I'll save those forms for you to fill out then," Stan told him.

"Looking forward to it."

"Yeah, you probably are as well," Stan muttered over the phone, unknowingly echoing Mary's thoughts. He signed off, "I'll call when I have something for you."

"Thanks, Stan."

Marshall hung up and looked at Mary. She looked back. The look they shared conveyed the same thought.

Yeap. They definitely needed a plan.


	26. The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Mann

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 26 – The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Mann**

Stan's call came almost an hour and a half after they had left the motel.

They had circled round various areas of Minneapolis and St Paul for an hour, picking directions at random while trying to stay near enough to the airport so that they could make their 8 am departure if they needed to. At some point Marshall had spotted a sign for Hastings and had demanded that Mary head in that direction. Mary had been reluctant, but had given in when Marshall pointed out that picking a town based on his desire to see the second lock and dam on the Mississippi after seeing the first earlier that morning, was just about as unpredictable as they could get. After all, who would expect two US Marshals charged with keeping a witness safe to stop for a brief spot of sightseeing?

Darren had gone one further and suggested they stop for breakfast somewhere. Mary had agreed, knowing that stopping for a while would allow them to identify anyone following them just as well as driving round aimlessly would. Plus, she was hungry.

Which was how they came to be sat in a small diner in Hastings when Marshall's phone rang. Marshall checked the caller ID and seeing it was Stan, indicated they needed to leave. Mary left enough cash to cover their breakfasts and moved ahead to check the parking lot for anything suspicious.

"What you got, Stan?" Marshall asked as he escorted Darren back to the car after receiving Mary's all clear.

"Minneapolis WITSEC confirmed what you told me. The two guys were local, small-time criminals that got a call telling them to check motels in the area for your witness and to take him out."

"How did they know we were in Minneapolis?"

"I talked to air traffic control in San Francisco, there was a private jet that filed a flight plan to LA, but changed it to Salt Lake City a few minutes into the flight. They took off ten minutes after you. My guess is they followed you."

"Jesus, Stan!" Marshall hissed, careful to keep his voice low, "Didn't anybody spot them? Aren't our pilots ex-military? Just what the hell are they trained in?"

"Calm down, Marshall, we know how they're tracking you, now, and we'll step up the precautions."

"Stan, they're probably sat on some airstrip just waiting for us to take off again so they can follow us and try again!"

"I know," Stan agreed. "How do you want to play it?"

Marshall thought for a minute, "Hang on, I'll call you back."

He pulled his map out of the glove compartment and quickly brought Mary up to speed on the situation.

Darren sat in the back of the car quietly. He had realised at some point this morning that he would be dead now if it wasn't for the two Marshals assigned to him. As much as he missed Simon, he'd decided after this morning's close call that perhaps he wasn't ready to join him just yet. Instead he let the Marshals take charge and had obeyed every order he was given. He watched as Marshall pored over the map, discussing alternatives with Mary. He strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn't make out the words. He sat back, at least they'd had breakfast, with a full stomach the day ahead didn't seem nearly so daunting.

Marshall analysed the map in terms of distances, traffic routes and airports. If he had time he would just drive back, avoiding the need for air travel and enabling him to keep watch for pursuers himself. However, he was aware that Mary had a witness to pick up this afternoon and he wanted to make in back to Albuquerque in time to say goodbye to Ellen.

He looked at the map again and allowed his twisty mind to form a plan. He picked up his phone and dialled Stan again. Mary stood next to him, waiting to see what route her partner had in mind and maintaining vigilance for them both.

"Hey, Stan. The jet waiting at Minneapolis for us, that's still there right?" he waited for Stan's confirmation before continuing, "Have that leave on time and go to Oklahoma City, as planned. Do you think you could get another plane to meet us at Des Moines in say, four hours?"

"I think I can pull a few strings," Stan hedged.

"If you can, have another waiting at Cedar Rapids. I'll need someone at Des Moines to take the rental car back, as well."

"Where will you go from Des Moines?"

"Hopefully, straight back, although we may fly around in circles for a while first."

Mary grabbed the phone off of him, "Stan, have the plane in Minneapolis take off at 11 rather than 8."

Marshall nodded his approval at Mary's addition which would buy them some more time if the plane at Minneapolis was still being watched. He started to fold up the map, wanting to get under way as quickly as possible, as Mary frowned at something Stan said then hung up.

"What route are we taking to Des Moines?"

"Straight down I-35. There should be enough traffic to mask us, more so than the back roads," he told her as they got into the car.

"What did Stan say to you?" Marshall asked after a minute.

"He said to let you drive," Mary told him as she folded her arms across her chest in a classic sulking pose, "Apparently I'm incapable of returning a hire car in a good enough condition to avoid additional charges."

xxx

They made good time down I-35, turning off occasionally to see if anyone followed and were relieved to find that the few cars travelling down the same road at the same time were there for reasons other than wanting to kill their passenger.

They pulled into the small airstrip outside Des Moines to see the plane waiting for them. There were several of the familiar SUVs loitering nearby and they were greeted by an armed guard as they came to a stop. They flashed their credentials and Marshall quickly assumed command of the marshals from the Des Moines office.

He picked the marshal that most closely matched his physical appearance, or at least the one closest in height, and one that could _almost_ be mistaken for Darren then called over the only woman in the group over.

He handed them the car keys with instructions to drive to Cedar Rapids, hand the car over to the marshals waiting there and tell them to take it back to Minneapolis. He signalled another marshal over and instructed him to escort them to the other airstrip in an SUV so they could get back home. Anyone checking the mileage of the car on it's return would get a much higher reading than the actual distance covered making that much harder to work out where it had gone.

Once he was satisfied that the car's journey would be untraceable he went to have a word with the pilot. The pilot agreed to make a quick stop at Omaha, any plane taking the same route would stand out a mile as the distance between the two cities was so short. If they were still being followed, Marshall already had a plan in place to double back to Cedar Rapids and pick up the rental car again. The drive to Des Moines had given him plenty of time to come up with several alternative plans, each one of increasing complexity.

Mary had been quiet for the drive, not wanting to engage in unnecessary conversation while watching for tails. She had also been aware that Marshall was making backup plans and hadn't wanted to distract him. Even though they had had a near miss this morning and neither of them knew for sure if they were out of the woods yet, Mary couldn't help but admire her partner and wonder just what fiendish plan his mind was devising. She wanted to ask, but knew her curiosity would have to wait until they were safe.

When they arrived at the airstrip Mary took charge of the safety of the witness without a word to, or from, Marshall. She checked the IDs of the marshals on guard duty and questioned them on any suspicious activity in the area and their procedures before leaving Darren in their care while she did her own security sweep of the aircraft. Satisfied that the plane was indeed secure, she coerced one of the local marshals to carry their bags onto the plane and then escorted Darren on board, just as Marshall was finishing talking to the pilot.

xxx

Marshall stood in the cockpit waiting to hear whether there had been any planes change their flight plans in the area and for the tower staff to confirm where several flights had originated from.

Once he was convinced that everything was normal he gave the pilot the okay to take off again and returned to his seat.

Mary was waiting anxiously for him. He answered her unasked question with a nod and a smile and watched as she relaxed slightly.

"So what was plan B, Freakoid?"

"Head to Cedar Rapids, hope Stan had managed to get another plane there and have both planes leave at the same time along with the car. You know, confuse the hell out of anyone watching," Marshall told her with a smirk, quite proud of his convoluted plot.

Mary signalled her approval with a half smile. The way her partner's mind worked always intrigued and amused her.

"Will we get back in time to see Ellen off?"

Marshall shrugged, seemingly unconcerned but Mary could see the tension in his shoulders increase at the reminder that he may miss his sister's departure.

"What are we doing with Darren when we get back?"

"Eleanor's already made a reservation at the Hiway House," he said as he leant back and closed his eyes. God, he wanted this day to be over.

"At least that's central," Mary commented, thinking of the amount of time they were going to have to spend travelling to and from that motel over the next couple of weeks as they protected a witness that wouldn't be able to leave his room for fear of being recognised.

"Stan's got marshals stationed there already, so we won't be babysitting the whole time," Marshall informed her.

"Good. Two weeks babysitting with you, who knows what would happen?" Mary said, thinking of Marshall's revelation the day before.

Marshall opened his eyes to see Mary smiling slyly at him.

"Just what are you suggesting, Mare?"

Mary quirked an eyebrow at him and turned to look out the window, leaving Marshall thoroughly confused.


	27. To Ellen and Back

**Spoilers **for _Let's Get It Ahn_ and _Once A Ponzi Time_.

* * *

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 27 – To Ellen and Back**

Their plane landed in Albuquerque shortly after noon. They hastily bundled Darren into the back of yet another car and sped through the streets of Albuquerque with Mary at the wheel.

They arrived at the office and hustled the confused witness along the corridor. Marshall appeared calm, but his impatience and desire to hurry was showing in the way he pressed the button for the elevator multiple times and shifted his weight from leg to leg as they waited. He was too polite to complain and curse the elevator, it's designer and the laws of physics the way Mary would have, but she could see the strain showing around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders.

Ellen was leaving at one.

It was now 12.20.

The door finally opened and the outward signs of impatience increased on the short journey to the office. Marshall's anxiety was rubbing off on Mary, she was aware of the deadline they had and knew they would be cutting it fine. Darren was also sensing the two WITSEC inspectors edginess although he didn't know the source so he was beginning to worry about what he would find when the elevator doors opened at their destination. The two marshals assigned to protect him had been unflappable in the face of car chases and armed assassins so their nervousness was a concern to him. When the doors opened, he was relieved and a little disappointed to find nothing more sinister than an office on the other side.

Mary escorted him into the conference room with Eleanor trailing behind while Marshall disappeared into Stan's office. He emerged a couple of minutes later and banged on the conference room window signalling to Mary that he'd got Stan's permission to abandon their witness for an hour while he ran a personal errand.

He was once again waiting for the elevator when he noticed Mary at his side.

"You don't have to come with me," he told her as they stepped into the car.

"Or course I do, Dumbass, I've got a bet to win," she grinned at him.

"Seriously, Mare, you don't have...One of us should stay with the witness..." Marshall tried to give her an easy way out.

Mary looked at him and said with quiet finality, "I want to come."

The doors opened once more and Marshall flashed her a smile before exiting at a fast jog. Mary stared after him for a fraction of a second then sprinted to catch up, laughing at his eagerness. As she pulled along side him he increased his pace forcing her to do the same and they tore through the building laughing and dodging anyone in their path. When they reached the parking lot, Marshall threw Mary the keys to his car acknowledging that her more aggressive driving style was likely to get them to his house marginally faster. She caught the keys mid stride, neither of them slowing until they reached the car.

xxx

Long before they pulled into Marshall's drive he was scanning the street for Ellen's car, praying she was still there. Mary brought the car to a sudden stop outside his house and he dove out the car, Mary only taking long enough to turn the engine off before she followed him up the drive. As she did so she had a sudden flash of her dream from this morning/last night she wasn't sure when it had been, it seemed a lifetime ago, but in that instant she was sure what that she would find an empty house when she opened the door.

Marshall was stalking from the living room into the kitchen when she caught up with him, obviously checking each room for any sign of his sister.

There was none.

On the kitchen table sat two letters.

Marshall stared at them for a moment.

"GODDAMIT!" he yelled as he pounded the fridge with his fist and gave it a kick for good measure.

Mary looked at him, startled.

She struggled to recall an occasion when Marshall had let his temper get the better of him. She couldn't think of a single time when he had overtly displayed his displeasure. Sure, he had sniped and taunted her when he had found out about Raph knowing what they did for a living, but that was part of the cool, subdued anger she was used to from him. This was a new side of her partner, one she hadn't seen before, one that attacked innocent kitchen appliances, one she didn't quite know how to deal with.

Marshall leant against the fridge he had just assaulted and sank slowly to the floor. His elbows rested on his knees and his hand automatically found his hair which he gripped hard, ignoring the pain it caused. He projected a typical image of despair.

Mary glanced round the room nervously, searching for inspiration on how to comfort him. She knelt down beside him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"She'll understand. She knows you tried to get back here in time. She understands the job and what it demands..." she told him.

"She shouldn't have to understand. Ten minutes to say goodbye to my sister, that's all I wanted." He looked at her, searching for an answer as he asked, "How much do we have to give up for this job, Mare?"

"You knew what you were getting in to..." she pointed out gently, having no good answer for him.

Marshall huffed, "Yeah."

He pulled himself to his feet and glanced at his watch, "Come on, We've got another witness to pick up and Darren's still with Stan. We should get back."

"Aren't you going to read the letters?"

Marshall shook his head, "I'll read them later, when I've got time."

He made his out of the room but Mary hung back for a moment, gazing round the room. Marshall reached the door but realising Mary wasn't with him, turned back.

"You okay?" he asked when he saw her looking round the room with a slightly haunted look in her eye.

"Yeah. It just reminded me of something, that's all."

Marshall wanted to ask what but before he could, she gave herself a mental shake, the fire and focus returned to her eyes and Marshall knew that his question would have to wait.

xxx

"Did you get whatever it was taken care of?" Stan asked as they returned to the office.

"Yeah," Marshall said despondently.

Mary shook her head slightly at Stan, silently telling him not to ask.

Stan accepted Mary's advice at face value and changed the subject, "Well, I didn't get chance to say earlier, Marshall, but that was some good work this morning. The Fugitive Recovery Taskforce should know about you, they always need people capable of creative thinking."

"Thanks, Stan, but I'd rather they didn't know about me. Unless you're trying to get rid of me, that is?" Marshall's mood lightened at the unexpected praise.

"No, no, I just meant, if you fancy a career change that might be something to consider," Stan hastily back-pedalled, not wanting to lose either of his Inspectors.

"I don't know, I'm good at avoiding capture," Marshall allowed. "But that's completely different from pursuing a fugitive."

Marshall eyes darted to Mary who was watching the exchange nervously, holding her breath, as if she expected him to ask Stan for the paperwork to sign up for a transfer at any moment.

She caught him looking at her and he looked away quickly, choosing to study the floor as he said, "My approach tends to be to let people chase me until I catch them."

Mary heard his words and the hidden meaning behind them, even if she didn't know what he was trying to tell her. The confusion she felt at his words was uncommon, but not altogether unfamiliar. Normally she caught the unspoken connotations, but she wasn't sure what he was getting at today. It had been the same the day he made a toast to her engagement. She had got the distinct feeling he was hiding something, that he had meant all the words he had said, but had said only half the words he meant. She'd missed something important that day and she was missing something again today.

As she thought over his words she got the feeling that he had been referring to her in some way, she just didn't know how or why.

Mary was lost in her introspection for only a second before Marshall drew her out of it as he looked up and grinned at Stan, "I doubt that tactic would work on a criminal..."

"I don't know, if you were partnered with Mary, she could piss them off enough to want to kill you. They'd devote their every waking moment to tracking you down then. It would be a break through in law enforcement," Eleanor joined in, a playful gleam in her eyes.

"No, Mary likes a challenge. Pissing off criminals is too easy when she has you to torment," Marshall joked as Mary seemed disinclined to participate in the conversation.

Eleanor was about to form a rejoinder when Stan cut in, "Folks, we have a witness that needs securing before..."

"We're on it," Marshall assured him and went to collect Darren from the conference room to take him to the motel.

As they headed back towards the elevator Stan called Marshall back and signalled him to come into his office.

Mary gave him a puzzled look as he left Darren with her. He shrugged telling her he had no idea what their boss wanted and there was only one way for them to find out.

"Shut the door," Stan told him.

"What's up, Chief?"

"Minneapolis PD faxed over the arrest report and statements from this morning. They got a full confession from the guys, by the way. I just wanted to clarify a couple of points."

"Sure," Marshall agreed as he took a seat and crossed his legs.

"According to the statement, you and Mary were both in the room when they entered. Is that correct?"

"Yeah."

"And Mary was in the bed?"

"Yeah," he shifted uncomfortably, all of a sudden he could see where this was heading.

"Just out of interest, what was Mary doing in the same room as you and the witness? I'm assuming you were sharing with the witness..." Stan waited for Marshall's nod, "...and it was just _the room_ you were sharing..." he prompted.

"What, Stan? God. No. Yes."

Marshall took a breath, "I was sharing the room with the witness, but at some point during the night Mary and I decided that we had a bad feeling about the situation and decided to take turns keeping watch. She moved into mine and Darren's room and was sharing a bed with me when the attackers entered."

Marshall cringed as he finished, realising how the last bit sounded. Stan, fortunately, seemed relatively unconcerned once he had clarified that Marshall hadn't crossed the line with a witness and Marshall mentally patted himself on the back for walking the fine line between explaining what happened and _explaining what happened_.

Stan told him to get lost and Marshall practically bolted from the room, grabbing Mary and hastily whispering to her that he'd tell her later, before she could ask any inappropriate questions in public.

They escaped further interrogation from Stan although Marshall's desire for a quick exit didn't go unnoticed by Eleanor.


	28. Love, Letters

**AN: **Grammar Maven asked for some more smut and I was happy to oblige, although this is brief and may not be what she was after...

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 28 – Love, Letters.**

Mary entered her house, cell phone attached to her ear as she waited impatiently for her call to be answered.

She stormed through the living room straight into the kitchen where she barely spared Raph and Brandi, sat at the table, a glance as she pulled open the fridge door cursing quietly as she did so. On the top shelf of the fridge, much to her surprise, sat a plate what looked like a balanced, homemade dinner. She pulled it out and turned to Raph the puzzled look on her face clearly asking 'did you cook this?' and 'is this for me?'.

Raph nodded, pleased that he had managed to surprise Mary.

She spun and stuffed the plate into the microwave just as the person on the other end of the phone picked up.

"What the hell took you so long?" she asked as she searched the draining board for some clean cutlery.

"I've just walked through the door, Mare," Marshall told her sounding exhausted, "I didn't want to risk life and limb, not to mention a speeding ticket, again today."

Mary glanced at Raph furtively and seeing him engrossed with helping Brandi with whatever assignment she was working on, asked quietly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Marshall sighed, wondering if that was true.

"Are you sure? 'Coz you didn't seem fine earlier..." Mary insisted, missing the look that crossed Raphael's face as he listened to her side of the conversation.

"I'm sure, I just need some sleep. I've been running on adrenaline and caffeine all day. I let it get to me for a moment, that's all. I'm fine now and I didn't mean to scare you earlier..." Marshall tried to apologise for his out of character behaviour but Mary was having none of it.

"You didn't scare me, idiot," she told him in no uncertain terms. "I'm just worried about you. Do you want me to come over?"

"No, you don't need to do that. I've got the house back to myself." Mary could hear the sadness in his voice at the prospect of being alone, but he continued before she could say anything.

"I'm planning on enjoying the peace and quiet. I don't need you coming over and ruining my evening," Marshall told her jokingly and although the words were said in jest, she could hear the truth in them and decided to honour his request for an evening alone.

"Okay, then," she conceded, then borrowed a phrase from him, "Call if you need anything."

"Will do," he acknowledged then hung up.

Brandi had been watching Raph during Mary's phone call. He had been so pleased when Mary had accepted his peace offering of a saved dinner, but that had quickly dissipated as he heard Mary's voice soften in concern for whoever was on the other end of the line. Fortunately for Brandi, it didn't take a genius to work out that she was talking to Marshall and Brandi could only shoot Raphael pitying looks as they heard Mary offer to go over to her partner's place.

Raph's initial disappointment at Mary's neglect of him was quickly replaced by hurt and anger at her attention to Marshall's needs and welfare. By the time Mary had hung up, retrieved her plate from the microwave and joined them at the table, finally deigning to acknowledge them, Raph had worked up a healthy, righteous anger.

As he watched Mary shovelling in mouthful after mouthful of the lovingly prepared dinner, barely stopping to chew let alone taste it, she was so hungry, Raph felt his annoyance boil over.

"Brandi, could you give Mary and I a minute?" he asked, causing Mary to pause in her eating as she tried to work out what Raph was up to.

"Mary, I think we need to talk."

"Can't it wait Raph? I haven't eaten since six this morning..."

"No, Mary, not everything is on your time scale."

"Fine, you talk. Just don't expect me to stop eating."

xxx

Marshall hung up the phone and dropped it back into its cradle.

He stolled into the kitchen and, deliberately ignoring the letters sat on the table, opened the fridge hoping that there would be something edible in there.

It had been a very long day even by his and Mary's standards.

Once they had dropped Darren at the motel and made sure he had everything he needed for the evening they had rushed back to the airport to pick up Mary's newest witness, who actually turned out to be a family of four. The family had been under witness protection for several years before an unexpected phone call from a former employee had threatened retribution for the embezzlement the couple had been party to.

The family had arrived in Albuquerque shaken and tired after the move. They had thought any threat had passed and had been rebuilding their lives anew, in accordance with all WITSEC rules, so the need to move only served to remind them of what they had lost and may still lose.

The children were whiny after several long flights, one of which had been redirected thanks to Marshall's appropriation of several of the jets available to the Marshal service. While they didn't know he was to blame, it didn't stop the parents complaining endlessly about the lack of organisation within the service.

The marshals accompanying the family from their previous home in Rhode Island shot him and Mary sympathetic glances, but had offered no help or advise for dealing with the family. Despite the family's familiarity with the Memorandum of Understanding it still took several hours to go through the document. Mary had left him to it as she tried to arrange an apartment for the family on short notice although Marshall suspected she had just wanted to escape the screaming kids for a while. He couldn't blame her.

When he had finally arrived home after being defeated by the paperwork associated with his chaotic morning, he'd found his phone ringing and hadn't been overly surprised to discover it was Mary making sure he got home okay.

While he was still disappointed to have missed his chance to say goodbye to Ellen, God only knew when he was going to see her again, he was grateful for the peace and quiet her departure afforded him, the first available to him for several days.

He was even more grateful when he looked into the fridge and saw several neatly stacked Tupperware boxes labelled with their contents. Ellen had obviously been bored while he was away and had amused herself by cooking, a task she'd always enjoyed and found therapeutic.

He selected a box at random and put in the microwave.

He picked up the first letter Ellen had left, a quick note thanking him and Mary for letting her stay, telling them about the meals in the fridge and apologising for her visit's poor timing. He hadn't expected anything else from his sister, their parents had drilled politeness into them both at an early age.

The second letter was sealed and addressed to him only.

He smiled, wondering if Ellen actually thought that would stop Mary reading it, oh how little she knew his fiancée...

He caught himself and reminded himself that that wasn't true and that Mary had only ever been his partner. Now he couldn't even pretend any more, Ellen's leaving had removed the need for the lies and half truths they had constructed over the past week. Marshall was just going to have to get used to sleeping alone again and the loneliness that was his only companion in the evenings.

The microwave pinged and he retrieved his dinner, sitting at the table to eat and read whatever Ellen had felt the need to share with him.

xxx

Raphael paused before launching into his list of grievances. He took a breath and approached the topic from what he believed to be the safest direction.

"I'm sorry about the things I said about Marshall," he didn't notice Mary tense at the reminder of her then supposed, now actual, infidelity. He ploughed on, "but you have to understand that sometimes I feel that there are three people in this relationship. You spend so much time with him at work and share all these secrets with him. I can't help but be jealous. Even though I _know_ there is nothing between you two."

Mary considered telling him about the other night just to wipe the smug grin off his face as he expressed his certainty of how strong, yet platonic, hers and Marshall's relationship was.

She wasn't given the chance to say anything, however, as he changed direction, "Why did you offer to go over there, tonight?"

"His sister left today, I though he might want some company," she explained, putting down her fork. This conversation was going to ruin any appetite for what was left of her dinner.

"Why?"

"So he's not alone..."

"No, I meant why did you offer? You never offered to spend time with me when my Mom left..."

"Is that what this is about?" Mary exploded, "The fact I spend more time with Marshall than with you? Jesus, Raph, I work with him. He's my partner. I don't get to pick and choose..."

"That's not what this is about." Raph tried to calm her, "You have to know that the way you treat him isn't the way you treat a work partner," Raph explained carefully, trying to avoid her wrath. Mary stared at him, waiting to see where this was heading, "You treat him more like a life partner than a..."

"Good God, a _life partner_, what are we gay, now? Are we sharing the love that dare not speak it's name? A life partner..."

"Call it what you want Mary, but that's not how you treat a colleague..."

Mary glared at him, unable to deny it.

"It's just that I hear you talking to him and sometimes it sounds like you really care about him."

"Of course I care about him, Raph, he's my best friend..."

"I know, but I want to be your best friend. That's what marriage is, after all."

"Says who? Where does it say the man I marry instantly has to be my best friend?"

"No where, but that's what I want from this marriage, I think it's what you want too..."

Mary shifted uncomfortably but didn't reply.

Raph continued, "I don't know how to achieve that when Marshall is the only friend you seem to want or need."

"You're right, I don't need another friend. I already have one. What I need is a understanding lover to come home to, one that doesn't question my every move," Mary snapped.

"I want to be more than that to you Mary, and at times I'm not even sure if I'm your lover. That would require you to love me. Do you love me?"

"Of course!"

"You never tell me..."

Mary's eyes acquired a familiar look, "Let me show you, instead," she said as she lead him to her bedroom.

xxx

Marshall sat on his sofa, Ellen's letter in his hand as he read it for the third time;

_Dear Marshall,_

_Thanks again for letting me stay with you and Mary. You really are a life saver at times, I don't know what I'd do without you._

_I'm sorry that we didn't get chance to talk before I left. I was looking forward to quizzing you about Mary without her there. You two seem to be inseparable which is great but doesn't help when I want to gossip or have a serious conversation. And I do feel we need to talk about her, hence this letter. You are obviously in love but I have to ask - is that enough? Don't get me wrong, I like her, I really do, but as your sister it's my duty to worry about you. Are you sure you're doing the right thing? As much as I liked Mary, I don't like you being with a woman who has already cheated on you and hurt you. I'm concerned she might do it again. I'm concerned you might push her to do it again. I know what you're like._

_I know you worry about getting hurt too, which is why I feel I can say this to you – It's time to let Gemma go. I'm sorry to remind you about her but unless someone tells you to get over her, she'll always hang around your neck and you'll sabotage any real relationship because of a might-have-been._

_It's time to step up, Bro, if you feel this is the one. Stop holding back. Stop giving up what you want just because you're scared of getting hurt again. Show her how you love her, don't hold back from her. You'll only push her away. Again, I suspect._

_Just once, I'd like to see you fight for what you want, to hold on to what you have rather than letting it slip away because you think that's what someone else wants._

_And if it all goes horribly wrong, then I'll still be there for you. You still prefer brunettes for meaningless sex, right? I'll make sure I have some suitable women lined up for you...After all, what's family for?_

_Speaking of family, are you planning on going home for Christmas? If I can get the time off, I think I will, unless this afternoon goes badly or you ask me not to...I'd like to see you either way so we should arrange something. _

_Give me a call to arrange something or just if you need anything._

_Love, as always,_

_Ellen_

The first two times he had read the letter he had dismissed much of it, knowing that Ellen had only seen what he and Mary had wanted her to see, but as he read it the third time he considered what she was saying and how it related to what was actually going on in his life.

He realised as he got into his empty bed that his sister was surprisingly insightful.

xxx

Mary lay naked and sweaty on her bed, Raphael next to her, gently stroking her back.

She had let him take it slow, allowing him to caress her and kiss her despite her tiredness and desire to _just get this over with_. He had taken her slowly, evoking memories of another night with another lover until she could bare the guilt and the comparison no more and had flipped him onto his back so she was back in control and could set the pace.

From that moment on, Mary had been consumed with desire and had freely let it show in her rapid actions and cries of pleasure as Raph met her demands. The frantic pace had meant the session was a short one, passion quickly ignited was soon extinguished as they both burned hot and bright.

Now the soothing action of Raph's hand trailing up and down her back told her he wasn't done for the night, but if the motion was meant to reignite her desire he had misjudged the situation as it was only serving to lull Mary into a deep, contented sleep after her long day.


	29. Suggestions Welcome

**AN: **So the last chapter is proving to be a little controversial. I got some fairly mixed reactions. I ask that you trust me and stick with the story and hopefully this will make it up to you...

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 29 – Suggestions Welcome**

Marshall returned home after what felt like an exceptionally long day at work. If he had the inclination to compare today's workload with those of the previous two days he would have been amazed to find today had been considerably lighter in terms of hours and workload. Somehow it had managed to seem much longer.

He had spent the day running between the Hiway House, where Darren was staying, and the WITSEC office. The excursions to provide Darren with food were welcome distractions from the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk since he had mostly cleared it on Sunday.

To make the tedious task of form filling even more unbearable, Mary had been acting odd all day. Gone where the usual quips and insults, the childish pranks that normally made the time in the office fly by were also absent.

And Marshall had a suspicious feeling that she was avoiding him.

She hadn't said anything specific, but he had caught her and Eleanor in a conversation that had stopped abruptly when he had approached hoping for a distraction. He'd offered up several easy opportunities for her to tease him and brag about winning the bet but she had just smiled and let them pass.

By three in the afternoon, he had attributed Mary's strange mood to their sleeping together, as he could think of no other cause.

He found her delayed reaction strange but not altogether unexpected. The past two days had flown by in a whirlwind of motion, neither of them having much time to think about the events of Sunday night. They had had half a chance to discuss it on the plane to San Francisco, which had gone better than Marshall had expected and he had believed, perhaps overly optimistically, that they'd still be able to work together.

Tuesday morning had shown they were still in sync professionally, but then Wednesday had arrived and he found himself questioning where they were personally once again, especially after spending hours dissecting Ellen's letter the night before.

He wandered aimlessly around his house wondering how it could suddenly seem too quiet. Mary and Ellen had only been there a week which made him ask how had he got used to their presence and chatter so quickly? He actually missed it now it was gone, which was strange as he had lived alone for much longer than they had been there, yet he had never noticed the oppressive silence before their visit.

To combat the quiet, he turned the TV on as he reheated one of Ellen's mystery dishes. He'd discovered the night before that the labels she had attached bore no relation to what the dish contained. He had suspected that she had mislabelled them while in a hurry until he found the box labelled 'Old Socks Baked in a Red Wine Sauce with New Potatoes and Brownies'. Careful examination of the box had revealed nothing that looked like a new potato although he couldn't vouch for the rest. He decided to chance it anyway.

Once his dinner had pinged he took it into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, not bothering to remove his holster or his shoes before putting his feet up on the coffee table.

He hadn't moved an hour later when he heard a key turn in the lock of the front door causing him to reach for his weapon until he heard a familiar voice.

"Marshall?" Mary called out as she opened the door, having no desire to get shot by her partner.

"In here," he called back, not bothering to move.

Mary soon appeared in the doorway looking at him enviously as he projected the image of a man at ease, sitting at an angle on the couch, leaning on both the arm and the back of the sofa, feet on the coffee table with his head propped up by his arm as it rested on the back of the sofa.

"I thought you'd gone home..." Marshall commented, subtly enquiring why she was there.

"I did. Brandi and Jinx were driving me insane," she said as she moved into the room.

Marshall watched her walk hesitantly toward the sofa, wondering what had happened that had replaced her weird mood from earlier today, when she had been avoiding him, with the current one that included seeking him out for unknown reasons that were obviously the source of her discomfort.

"You still have your shoes on," she noted, searching for a distraction.

"I couldn't be bothered to take them off, they seemed too far away tonight."

Mary sat on the coffee table and removed his shoes from his feet earning her a raised eyebrow from him. She ignored him and took her own shoes off dropping them on the floor next to his. She moved from the coffee table to the sofa and sat next to him.

"What you watching?" she asked as she pulled her feet up onto the sofa and leaned into the space between his body and the back of the couch where his arm rested.

Marshall struggled to focus on the image on the TV, he'd only been half watching it, wanting the company it provided more than any entertainment. After a second he recognised one of the actors and remembered vaguely the plot of the episode.

"CSI," he told her.

"What's the body count so far?"

"Three, I think."

"So I haven't missed much then?" she asked with a grin that he couldn't see from his position as she leaned into his shoulder, but one he could hear in her voice.

At some point during _CSI_ Marshall's hand had moved from it's position under his head to one above Mary's as he rhythmically picked up a lock of her hair allowing it to run through his fingers until it fell back to rest on Mary's shoulder. The first time he did it, Mary hadn't made any comment so he had just kept repeating it, unable and unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth, but all the while wondering what had caused this sudden change in her attitude toward him.

They spent the rest of the hour commenting on the episode, guessing who-did-it and picking holes in the plot. When the show ended neither went to change the channel not wanting to move, rather just letting the next show come on, whatever it happened to be.

Much to Marshall's delight the next program turned out to be a documentary which he watched with greater enthusiasm than he had _CSI_. Mary watched in silence not really caring about the life of Charlie Chaplin and knowing that Marshall would provide her with any interesting facts at the least appropriate moment possible. She was slowly falling asleep as she listened to the soothing sound of the voice over and enjoyed the repetitive motion of Marshall's hand in her hair.

As the presenter discussed the legal difficulties Chaplin had faced in the 40s, something caught Mary's attention and she forced herself to open her eyes and pay attention.

"Is there a reason your name is associated with a sex trafficking law?" she enquired when the next set of commercials were on.

"Huh? I thought you were asleep," Marshall responded.

"Nearly," she admitted, "but I heard your name and sex trafficking and woke up."

"Yeah, there's a Mann Act, it's got something to do with slavery and transporting women across state borders for immoral purposes."

"So it's nothing to do with your family then?"

"It might be, there's a lot of us in the Mann Clan and we tend to go into law enforcement, so it's possible that the Act is named after a distant relation."

"It must be nice, knowing who your ancestors are and coming from a clan," she said sleepily, "I wish I had that."

"You could," Marshall put forward, quietly.

"Hmmm...?"

"You could marry into that sort of family. If you married me, for example, you could have that, you'd be part of my family," Marshall said, not really considering what he was saying, just talking for the sake of it.

As soon as he realised what he had just suggested he stole a glance at Mary, still leaning against him, and another at the clock on the VCR preparing to time how much longer their current positions would last. Marshall then mentally cursed his sister for urging him to fight for what he wanted, an idea he had been entertaining since his conversation with Amy. That was the only reason he could find for his slip of the tongue.

"Are you proposing to me?" The words were designed to tease but the joking tone was forced.

"I'm just saying you have options," Marshall said carefully, hedging around the subject.

Mary hadn't moved from her position curled up against him which he took to be a good sign, but her close presence also allowed him to feel the sharp increase in tension in her body. A tension that had been all but absent just moments ago.

"Options?" Mary asked quietly.

Marshall took a deep breath, trying to decide if he should try and talk her out of marrying Raphael. He'd taken a back seat and kept his opinions about Raph to himself, knowing he could sabotage their relationship at any point with a well placed word or comment, the way only a best friend could. But he never had, choosing Mary's happiness over his own time and time again.

He hadn't been prepared to destroy the one stable relationship he'd seen Mary in, just out of spite and jealousy, which is what it would have amounted to as he hadn't been ready to step up as an alternative. But at some point over the last week, something in him had changed. He'd been given a glimpse of the life he could have, more than that, he'd actually held it in his hands and lived it. And now, after only a day back in his old routine and loneliness of his old life, he found he wasn't prepared to just let go of the life he so desperately wanted.

Ellen was right.

It was time for him to be selfish for a change, time to throw his hat into the ring and prepare to fight for what he wanted.

Of course, he knew this wasn't going to be a quick skirmish, he was going to be in for a long war, not just against Raph, but also against Mary and her natural reluctance to change and commitment. He was going to have to lay the groundwork very carefully.

"What options?" Mary asked, when Marshall didn't respond.

"Marrying Raph is one option. Not marrying him is another..."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know. It depends on why you agreed to marry him. If you felt, perhaps, that it was time for you to get married, because society demands that of women, or if you felt that there's no one else out there willing to put up with you...I don't want to see you marry someone just because you feel you should. You have options other than Raph..."

Mary sat up, pulling away from him as he knew she eventually would.

"Have you ever known me do something just because that's what expected of me?" she asked defiantly.

"Yes, Mare," he told her gently, "You do it all the time. Maybe not in a professional sense, but when it comes to family..."

Mary sat back and studied him considering his words. She remained silent a long time.

The commercials ended and the documentary resumed.

Mary still didn't say anything.

Marshall allowed his gaze to return to the TV giving her the space she needed and trying to hide his amazement that she was still there, on the sofa, next to him. He had expected her to be out the door and half way home seconds after he had suggested not marrying Raph. Instead she appeared to be giving his opinion a lot of thought.

The documentary ended.

Mary still hadn't said anything, using Marshall's seeming interest in the program to review all the events of this evening uninterrupted.

As the credits rolled she pulled herself out of her introspection, "I should go."

"Okay," Marshall knew better than to convince her to stay.

Mary got up and moved round the room slowly, collecting her shoes and jacket. Whether her unhurried departure was a sign of her inner turmoil or an indication that she was reluctant to leave, Marshall couldn't be sure. Either way, she was at least walking away from him, not running.

Once she had closed the front door, Marshall moved to the window to watch her pull away. He saw her get in the car but the dark interior meant he couldn't see what she was doing. It appeared like she was just sitting there, leaving Marshall to wonder why.

From the car she couldn't see Marshall watching her as she sat, looking at his intact house and thinking about his only marginally broken family as she mentally prepared to return home for the night.


	30. Messages From Darren

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 30 – Messages from Darren.**

The next few days were odd.

They passed in a flurry of paperwork as Marshall explained and justified the lengths he had gone to to secure Darren's safety. Stan spent the remainder of the week shielding his Inspectors from the wraith of his penny pinching superiors by bearing the brunt of their displeasure, a valiant task, but one that made him testy. Eleanor kept giving Marshall strange looks and watching him when she didn't think he would notice. The only time he could escape the uncomfortable office atmosphere was when he went to visit Darren, often taking a very subdued Mary with him.

Mary quietness extended to all aspects of her life with the exception of her work. On a normal day she would share bits of information with him regarding her latest fight with Jinx, or maybe something stupid that Brandi had said that they would laugh over, she'd tell him what kind of pizza she had ordered the previous night, or bemoan the fact her car had developed another irritating quirk. Small things, all, but important to Marshall. The only things she talked to him about now were work related. It was if his subscription to the Mary-Life channel had been cancelled with no notification.

Marshall recognised Mary's renewed enthusiasm for her job as a distraction tactic. She was rigorous in her pursuit of an apartment for the family placed in her care and had secured a place in under two days and had them moved in on the third, an impressive feat. She also tackled Marshall's job with vigour. Any form he asked her to complete was done within the hour, fully and with no complaints or snarky comments written in the margin. She accompanied him when he went to see Darren more often than not and didn't grumble when they stayed longer than was necessary just because Darren wanted someone to talk to.

The hours she worked were long and Marshall knew it was partly to avoid going home. When she did leave the office it was often to accompany him back to his where they would spend the evening guessing what was in the meals of Ellen's they reheated and watching TV so they would have something to talk about. Marshall didn't directly pry into what was going on at home that she didn't want to talk about, instead he offered hints and bits of information about his childhood which Mary seemed to devour and cling onto with an intensity he hadn't expected, but which still failed to draw any information out of her.

The closest he came to finding out what was going on with her was at the weekend when they were at Darren's, delivering Chinese and keeping him company while they ate.

In the middle of a perfectly normal conversation Darren suddenly turned and looked over his shoulder as if somebody stood behind him and said, "Will you shut up? I've told you I'm not going to be your messenger boy any more!"

Mary and Marshall exchanged a worried glance as he continued to address the empty room.

"No. Unless you're going to tell me where Simon is, I'm not doing your bidding any longer! I'm sick of the lot of you!"

He lapsed into silence, not noticing the open mouthed stares he was receiving from the two marshals. He hunched over the table as though he was listening to someone or trying very hard _not_ to listen.

"Fine!" he said as he slammed his fork down on the table, angrily. He pointed at Marshall and declared, "I'm to tell you that 'now is the time'." He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he continued more gently, "Whatever has been holding you back is gone."

His gaze shifted suddenly to Mary, surprising them both as he told her, "He's never coming back, it's your fault he left, but you need to learn from that so you recognise a man...no..._your_ man when you see him."

Marshall felt his anger surface. He'd spent months trying to convince Mary that it wasn't her fault her Dad left and here was this charlatan telling her it _was_ because of her, undoing all his work. How dare he! He felt an overwhelming desire to punch the man in front of him and was out of his seat before he realised it.

Mary's hand on his forearm restrained him gently and he sat back down, as he grasped what he had been about to do.

The simple touch hadn't gone unnoticed by Darren who was now gazing at the space between them, his eyes darting back and forth as though he were reading the very air separating them, although his pupils were too dilated for him to be focused on anything.

His voice took on a timbre they hadn't heard from him before as he announced, "You two are bound together by words."

He sounded uncertain as he expanded, "Promises, perhaps. No, the words are twisted. Lies, then, and secrets," he grew in confidence as he continued, "They shield you both from the world, but also from each other."

He leant forward, as if to get a better look at whatever he was seeing, "And it's not just the words, but...letters."

The hesitation returned to his voice briefly, "The letter of the law maybe. No! Not yet, but the letters bind you as much as they keep you apart. Don't ignore them, as without them there can be no words but remember, by themselves, they are only letters."

Darren suddenly snapped out of it and looked at Mary and Marshall with clear eyes and a puzzled expression which mirrored their own bewilderment.

Marshall was distinctly uncomfortable with whatever had just occurred and Mary could feel his unease even as she struggled to remain stoic under Darren's patient gaze.

Darren watched the two unsettled marshals and tried to break the tension by resuming his eating and making small talk about the quality of the food. He partially succeed as Mary and Marshall continued eating after a moment, happy to ignore the weird scene that had just taken place. The memory couldn't be entirely banished, however, so the rest of the meal passed uneasily and the marshals made their escape as soon as they could.

They didn't say anything to each other until they were sitting in the SUV in the parking lot of the Sunshine Building. Marshall had turned the engine off a while ago, but neither of them had made a move to get out the car.

"So...Do you think he was high?" Marshall finally asked, not turning from where he was staring out the windscreen, hands still on the wheel.

"Probably," Mary agreed.

They sat there a minute longer, both contemplating the brick wall in front of them.

"Maybe," Mary revised her earlier statement. "He seemed to snap in and out of it too quickly for drugs."

"True," he shot a side long glance at Mary, "You don't think...?"

"No!" she avowed. "Do you...?"

Marshall shook his head adamantly.

"Nothing he said was...He didn't say anything that..." Marshall tried to explain but failed.

"I would have thought you would believe in this sort of thing..." Mary said slowly, "With everything you read...I don't know why I thought that..."

"I don't _not_ believe in it," he told her, "It's just, I've yet to see any evidence either proving or disproving the existence of para-psychic ability...or whatever."

"But you seemed sure that he wasn't..."Mary waved her hand searching for the right word, "...communicating..."

"Oh, he was communicating alright, just not necessarily with the spirit world. Most psychics are adept people readers, they pick up on subtle clues from your body language and the little they know about you. Think about it Mare, what did he actually say...something vague about secrets and lies. Well he knows what we both do for a living..."

"I don't know, Marshall, he did say..."

Marshall cut her off, knowing where she was heading, "Mary, they rely on your need to believe. It's people's desire to believe that allows them to take the vaguest of ideas and fit them to their lives. He doesn't know anything about your Dad. He could just as well have been guessing at a boyfriend that's left you at some point. It wouldn't be a huge leap to assume a woman your age with no ring on her finger would have a failed relationship or two in her past."

Mary turned to look out the passenger window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She wanted to believe what Marshall was telling her but unable to completely let go of what Darren had said. He had just hit a little too close to home.

"Mary, you're not to blame for your Dad leaving," he told her gently, placing a hand on her shoulder and stroking her with his thumb.

"I don't think that's who..." Mary whispered then stopped suddenly, wiping her eyes angrily although her back was mostly turned toward Marshall, so he couldn't be sure if she was crying or not.

He didn't get a chance to ask what she meant as she changed the subject with lightening speed.

"What did the other letter from Ellen say?"

"Huh? Oh. Umm." Marshall was unwilling to share the entirety of the message from Ellen. He quickly reviewed everything she had said and grasped the one bit he could distract Mary with. "She told me that you lost the bet, that's all."

"What?" Mary exclaimed. "I won. She believed we were engaged! That means I won!"

Marshall smiled, "That wasn't the bet. The terms were; if she tried to set me up with someone before she left, I won."

"NO! If she didn't question our relationship then I won," Mary argued.

Marshall just smirked at her.

"Hold on. If she believed we were engaged, which I _know_ she did, why would she set you up with someone?" Mary asked suspiciously, "I don't believe you! You're lying!"

"No, I'm not. She said she'd find a brunette for me..."

Mary studied him for a long moment before realising he was telling her the truth, but that didn't mean she was about to give up, "I want to see proof!"

"Fine, I'll show you when we get home."

With that in mind they got out the car, and headed over to their own cars for the short drive back to Marshall's.


	31. Lies My Partner Told Me

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 31 – Lies My Partner Told Me**

Marshall handed Mary the torn piece of paper.

He had ripped the bottom off so that Mary could read the relevant section without all his secrets being spilled. In his haste, he hadn't torn it straight so she got a tantalising glimpse the end of the previous sentence.

…..._away because you think that's what someone else wants._

_And if it all goes horribly wrong, then I'll still be there for you. You still prefer brunettes for meaningless sex, right? I'll make sure I have some suitable women lined up for you...After all, what's family for?_

_Speaking of family, are you planning on going home for Christmas? If I can get the time off, I think I will, unless this afternoon goes badly or you ask me not to...I'd like to see you either way so we should arrange something. _

_Give me a call to arrange something or just if you need anything._

_Love, as always,_

_Ellen_

Mary read the fragment of the letter twice before she joined Marshall where he was perched at the kitchen table watching her as she read.

"You know, you could make a girl paranoid only showing her half a letter," Mary joked.

"You're no girl," he told her, "and you're already paranoid."

"So she thinks you and I aren't going to last?" she asked with a smirk.

"So it seems,"

"I don't know how I feel about the break up of a relationship I was never involved in," she tried to joke but the humour was lost as she started fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably in her seat as soon as she said it.

Marshall couldn't help but notice her change in demeanour and that she was avoiding eye contact with him, but until he knew what had upset her he could only continue with the light banter and hope she could pull herself out of it.

"If it makes you feel any better, I rate our chances more than my sister does..."

Mary turned the letter fragment over and over in her hand as she reread sections of it. Something odd caught her eye. She stilled slightly as she focused on the words.

"What does this mean 'If you ask her not to'? Not to what?"

"Not to go home for Christmas," Marshall clarified.

"Why would you ask your sister not to go home for Christmas?"

Marshall became preternaturally still, "I wouldn't. She was joking."

Mary heard the strain in his voice.

"You wouldn't ask her not to, but she wasn't joking," Mary concluded, still looking at the letter. "Why does she think you wouldn't want her to go home for Christmas? I assume by home she means your parents'...?"

"Yeah. I haven't been home for years, that's all." Marshall tried to make light of it as he stood and moved into the living room, applying an avoidance tactic learnt from Mary.

Mary followed, asking, "What's up with that?"

Marshall shrugged, "It's just the way it's worked out."

"No, it's not. Ellen wouldn't offer to not to go unless she thought you had a reason not to want her to go."

"Just drop it, Mare. I'll tell you one day, but not today, alright?" he said as he collapsed onto the sofa.

"Why won't you tell me?" Mary persisted.

"I will. But not now," Marshall snapped. "You obviously have something going on that you don't want to talk about, why can't you accept that there may be things in my life I don't want to discuss?"

Mary perched on the coffee table and regarded him for a moment, unsure what he was angry about and knowing if she pushed him any further on the subject he would push back, wanting to know what was going on with Raph.

"Okay, so if we're not going to talk what should we do?" Mary finally asked as a peace offering.

Marshall looked at her then burst out laughing, partly in relief that Mary had changed the subject, but more because of the inappropriate suggestion that had just crossed his mind.

Mary watched him, puzzled.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

Marshall was still chuckling when he shared his idea with her, "If you don't want to talk we could always have sex..."

Mary smiled and made a show of considering his proposal, "You know, if you hadn't burst out laughing at the thought of having sex with me, I would have said yes. Way to kill a girl's self esteem, Mann."

Marshall sat up and leant forward, closing the gap between them. He waited until she was looking at him then reached out a hand to her. He caressed her cheek gently with the back of his fingers before cupping her face in his palm allowing his long fingers to rest on the back of her neck. He gently pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.

"I'll bear that in mind. For next time," he whispered in her ear before he allowed his lips to graze the side of her face on their way to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

xxx

Mary let herself into the WITSEC office, turning lights on as she went.

She'd made her way back there instinctively after leaving Marshall's. She'd half hoped Eleanor would be there, but realistically knew she wouldn't be. It was 11 pm on a Sunday, after all, so she wasn't overly disappointed to find she wasn't there.

While Eleanor would make her task much easier, she wasn't essential to Mary's plan.

She checked the office to make sure no one was lurking or working late then made her way into Stan's locked office. The lock presented no problems as she had stolen a copy of the key years ago.

She spent several minutes rummaging through various filing cabinets, searching for the file she wanted. All the while thinking about the kiss Marshall had given her. That had been unexpected, but not unwelcome. After her week, she was happy to accept any human interaction that didn't include blame and recriminations. Marshall had made her feel wanted, if only for a moment, after a week of rejection, condemnation and self-reproach.

In that moment she would have taken whatever he offered, but the kiss and a promise were all that he volunteered and she was too confused and hurt to ask for more. It had taken her several moments of stunned silence to realise there was one more thing he was giving her freely; his company. The one thing he had never denied her. She had greedily taken advantage of his unspoken offer until she could think of no excuse to stay any longer.

For the third time this week, rather than going home when she left Marshall's, she had made her way to the office. This time, though, she had a task in mind instead of just wanting to avoid her family and their blame laden questions.

So here she was, rooting through Stan's paperwork looking for her partner's personnel form, service record or whatever else she could find on him.

As she had sat watching the local news with Marshall she had given some more thought to Ellen's letter and Marshall's reaction to it. Why had he torn it in half? What had the first half included that he hadn't wanted her to see? Did he really prefer brunettes for meaningless sex? And was that why he went for Shelly and the professor woman? Why hadn't he been home for years? Didn't he get on with his parents? Why did he speak about them with such respect and love if he didn't?

By the time the news had finished she had more questions about her partner than ever before. She had thought she knew him. She obviously knew him well enough to convince Ellen they were engaged. That she had won the bet, she had no doubt. Yet over the last few days she had found out several things about his past that made her realise that although she knew who he was now, she had no idea about who he had been or how he had become the man he was. Mary was all too aware of how events of the past shaped a person's character and so now she was on the hunt for evidence of those events.

The second drawer of the second cabinet held what she was after.

She pulled out the folder labelled 'Mann, Marshall' and took it to her desk to read.

The first page contained information she already knew; he'd been born in Colorado and grown up there, attending the local high school before graduating with a 3.4 GPA. He'd gone straight on to attend UNM majoring in Anthropology with a minor in law – picking and choosing courses according to his interests, but always with a career in law enforcement in mind. There was a gap in his record where he had taken a year to travel and, as he had once confided in her, to consider whether he really wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. Obviously whatever doubts he had entertained had been resolved as he had joined the Marshal Service on his return.

One thing that stood out was his emergency contact details. She was surprised to find her own name entered along with her cell number rather than any of his family members. She guessed that with Ellen being in Europe for the last few years he hadn't wanted to bother her if anything happened to him, but that didn't explain why he hadn't listed his parents as his next of kin. Seeing that, she understood why his family hadn't visited when he had been shot, they simply hadn't known.

She still didn't see anything that accounted for his estrangement, a situation she almost couldn't grasp. Why would someone not want to see their parents if they knew where they were?

She turned to his service record noticing that he had joined the Colorado branch of the marshal service. He had obviously been on speaking terms with his parents then. His progress through the service was fairly standard if a little quicker than normal. He'd reached Criminal Investigator status almost a year sooner than most and it seemed he had been moved to Headquarters in Virginia as soon as his promotion had cleared, indicating someone, somewhere thought he was going places or that maybe his dad had pulled some strings.

There wasn't much information about his time in Arlington, a few commendations for work well done and some details about the cases he had worked. There was nothing that interested Mary until just before he left Virginia when he had foiled a plot to assassinate a Federal judge at the last minute. In true movie style, he had stepped between her and the barrel of her attacker's gun, somehow disarming the man before he succeeded in getting off a shot.

His actions to protect first had obviously caught someone's eye as shortly after he had been moved to Springfield, Missouri. The transfer looked like a demotion to the casual observer but Mary could pinpoint that as the moment he had been recruited into WITSEC.

There followed several years of moving around the country as he worked in several branches of WITSEC, never spending more than a year in one place or with a partner. Then, the frequency of his transfers and changes of partner suddenly increased to once every couple of months. While the previous moves were accompanied by an explanation for the move, the more recent transfers were often stated as taking place at his request or had no reason given.

The gaps in why he was transferred intrigued Mary. One was obviously after he had slept with his partner, but Marshall wasn't the sort of person to commit the same mistake twice so she couldn't work out why he had failed to settle anywhere until Albuquerque.

When she had joined the office he had already been there, partnered with a guy whose name she had never learnt as everyone called him Hook for no reason she could discern. When Hook and the guy she had initially partnered as he trained her had mocked the difficulty she had had in finding someone willing to partner her, Marshall had joined in the teasing leading her to believe he had always been in the Albuquerque office working with Hook.

Now she saw that he had only been there a few months before she had arrived. She wondered what it was about the Albuquerque office that had made him stay. Something about it obviously appealed to misfits and outcasts as they had both of them, with their chequered pasts had remained long after the other two Inspectors had requested to be reassigned.

He had never mentioned his nomadic lifestyle to her so he had come to represent stability in the absence of information to the contrary. Looking at him in the light of her new knowledge, she still couldn't see him as the sort of man that could talk about his family with such admiration and love yet never see them. It just didn't add up. Marshall understood the importance of family, so what had happened to cause him to change his attitude toward his own parents?

She certainly wasn't finding the answer to that question in his file. She decided to give up for the night, put the folder away and enlist Eleanor's help in the morning.


	32. Eleanor Prince, Charming

**AN:** Some chapters just write themselves. This wasn't one of them. But hopefully it sheds some light on what's been going on with Mary.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 32 – Eleanor Prince, Charming**

Eleanor sat staring at her computer screen.

She was alone in the office so had given up the pretense of work, now just staring at the screen blankly. Mary and Marshall were out delivering lunch to Darren and had promised to bring her something back. Marshall had been surprised when Mary had offered to pick up lunch for her, unaware of the strange request Mary had made of her this morning.

Mary had ambushed her as soon as she had arrived at the office, her presence in the office at that hour and her dishevelled appearance making Eleanor wonder if Mary had slept there. She had noticed evidence of someone sleeping in the office before the weekend and now she had a suspect.

Mary had confided in her a couple of times over the last week, or at least during the earlier part of the week. Eleanor didn't know what test she had unknowingly passed, but Mary had started telling her things and asking her opinion on personal issues. Then, all of a sudden, it had stopped. Mary had closed down and not said anything to anyone as far as Eleanor could tell.

Eleanor suspected problems with Raphael were to blame. She presumed that things between them had escalated, although Mary hadn't mentioned him since her confession about the awkward sex they had had Tuesday night. Eleanor hadn't been able to get to the bottom of why the sex had been awkward as Marshall's attempt to join their conversation had Mary changing topic, much to Eleanor's surprise. Didn't Mary normally tell him things? Hadn't she once walked in on her giving him a very graphic description of a new position Mary had tried the previous night? Why was she reluctant to share _these_ details with him?

Mary and Marshall's relationship was one that Eleanor was still struggling to work out. One moment they would be arguing like an old married couple, the next they'd be fighting like brother and sister all the while oblivious to the sexual tension between them and ready to put everything aside at a moments notice whenever a witness needed them.

Their weird behaviour had not so much increased over the last few weeks, as oscillated between extremes. Their falling out shortly after Mary had revealed her engagement had led them to snipe and insult each other with more venom and less humour than normal, but the fight had been put aside for the sake of Camille. The issue hadn't been fully resolved as, every so often, one of them would throw a comment at the other that was more malicious than normal, but these instances had been slowly becoming less common.

Just as they where finally getting back to their normal routine and appeared to have forgiven each other for whatever had caused the problem, they had swung the other way. Suddenly the weird comments had implied that they were spending more time together outside of work than they usually did. Eleanor couldn't forget the casual way Marshall had asked Mary if he'd see her at home the previous weekend or the sudden decrease in tension between the two of them. It didn't take a huge leap to guess at who the other man had been in Raphael's accusations of infidelity. But during their conversation on the subject, Mary had said that his fears were unfounded leaving Eleanor wondering what, if anything, had gone on between the partners.

Eleanor was usually quite good at spotting partners that were sleeping together. She knew the signs to look for; the small smiles and brief touches between partners in a relationship or the sudden awkwardness arising from a night of unplanned passion. She thought she had seen it all in the Phoenix office, but none of the signs she was used to were present between Mary and Marshall. Or perhaps it was more that they were all present all the time, so it was hard to spot the changes.

There _had been_ that one morning that had seemed like the typical, tentative attempts of two colleagues trying to work through an event that could redefine their relationship, but Eleanor's analysis of it had been cut short by their need to fly to San Francisco. On their return the issue had obviously been resolved making Eleanor think that nothing had happened as there was no way this pair could work through something like that so quickly.

The report from Minneapolis had shown they still worked together like the well oiled machine of their reputation, although it also provided evidence that Mary and Marshall had shared a bed. Marshall had been particularly antsy on his return, but just as Eleanor was getting concerned about him she heard the reports of him and Mary racing through the building, laughing like maniacs.

She had been about to dismiss the whole idea as her being either paranoid or an incurable romantic, when Mary had approached her with her doubts about her night with Raphael and the sudden reluctance she had to sleep with him.

That had been Wednesday.

The conversation had been cut short and Eleanor hadn't found an opportunity to resume it until the following day. Mary had cut her off as soon as she had raised the subject and had avoided her since then, communicating only when necessary and only about work related issues. Eleanor had taken the hint and left her alone.

Friday had seen the spiting and hissing Mary return. Although Marshall had mentioned his concern that she was too quiet, Eleanor had seen no evidence of this, as the abrasive and combative person she had met when she first started here made a reappearance.

The lack of emergencies over the weekend meant two days off for Eleanor in which she had forgotten the yo-yoing emotions in the office over the past couple of weeks. As soon as she saw Mary in the office first thing on Monday morning, it had all come back to her.

Mary's request that she look into Marshall's past had come as a surprise. She could see no reason for it, yet Mary had assured her it was in his best interests. Eleanor suspected it was an attempt of Mary's to find a problem she could fix or at least fixate on, when her own life seemed unfixable.

She had taken some convincing to agree to dig into Marshall's past and she still wasn't comfortable with the idea of invading a colleague's history. Which was why his file sat, still unopened, on her desk.

xxx

"So, what's with the lunch delivery?" Marshall asked as he and Mary rode the elevator.

"Can't a person just bring a colleague lunch?"

"If we're talking about some hypothetical person then, yes. You? Not so much."

"I've brought you lunch plenty of times...!"

"No, you've _paid_ for lunch. But only after you've dragged me out, forced me to drive you everywhere and generally had me act as your errand boy for the day."

"So? That still counts!" Mary said as the doors opened and she strode out, Marshall quick on her heels.

Mary swiped through the security gate and headed straight for Eleanor's desk where she dropped the bag she had been carrying in front of the other woman.

"Did you get it extra crispy?" Eleanor asked, peering into the bag.

"As requested," Mary said with a triumphant smile.

"Excellent!" Eleanor replied as she anticipated her lunch.

Mary returned to her own desk, catching Marshall's expression as she did so.

"What?" she snapped, expecting another round of bantering.

"Nothing, I'm just amazed how you can blow so hot and cold, sometimes."

Mary's face dropped as she suddenly stilled and all trace of humour left her.

"What did I say?" Marshall asked, puzzled by the sudden change.

Mary shook her head as she sat down, not willing to share her thoughts.

"Mare?" Marshall enquired gently.

"Raph asked me once how something that burned so hot could be so cold," she admitted quietly, staring at the desk to avoid his eye.

Marshall quickly hid the pained look that crossed his face as he realised his error. He wanted to go over and hug her and tell her that he didn't mean it, but he held himself back knowing it would be pointless.

Instead he settled on an indifferent tone as he said, "That's actually a common misconception."

"What is?" Marry asked.

"That something has to be hot to burn," Marshall told her, sipping his coffee.

Seeing he had her attention as well as Eleanor's he continued with the useless piece of trivia he had picked up somewhere over the years.

"Intense cold burns just as well as intense heat. In fact, if you have a bowl of ice water and a bowl of hot water and you blindfold someone before putting their hand in, they can't tell if their hand is in the hot or the cold. It's the same message that your nerves send to your brain in both cases, it's only the other four senses that allows us to determine which is which."

Mary regarded him contemplatively.

"So, you're say I'm always cold?"

"No, I'm saying perhaps Raph doesn't appreciate you with all his senses. Perhaps he's blind when he's with you." Marshall offered.

"They do say love is blind," Eleanor said.

Marshall gestured to Eleanor, encouraging Mary to accept her words as further proof for his argument, although as he turned back to his computer screen she heard him mutter, "That's no excuse."

xxx

Eleanor put the phone down.

That phone call had been...interesting.

To say the least.

The woman from Delta Airlines had faithfully relayed the information, supposedly requested by the Marshal Service, not knowing why this particular customer's name had been flagged by their booking system. She had asked whether she was allowed to issue a ticket and Eleanor had not known what to answer. There was no legal reason for her to say no, but she still hesitated to say yes.

She had asked when the gentleman intended to travel and on being told he wasn't leaving until the day after next had allowed the booking agent to issue the ticket with the stipulation that she be sent his travel details and be informed of any change in itinerary, no matter how small.

She was wondering what to do with this information when the fax machine kicked into life, reproducing the details printed on a one-way ticket on the other side of town.

Eleanor retrieved the document, staring at the name on it; Raphael Ramirez.


	33. Intervention

**AN:** Thanks to those of you that reviewed the last couple of chapters. I know they weren't the most exciting or particularly well written but I needed to have some time pass between Ellen leaving and this chapter. I wasn't happy with just jumping forward in time, I wanted to show bits of what was happening which I hope I have done...

Oh and in case there's any confusion, in addition to not owning the IPS characters, I don't own Delta Airlines as mentioned in the previous chapter or the Quality Inn mentioned in this one, although I have at least stayed there, I think.

* * *

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 33 - Intervention**

Marshall looked up surprised by the knock on his door. Mary hadn't bothered knocking since he had slipped her a key a day into their charade for Ellen. Even though Ellen had since left, Mary hadn't returned the key and Marshall hadn't asked for it back – he liked the idea of Mary coming home to him too much.

The knock sounded again and he left the laundry he'd been sorting in a heap on the floor to go and answer it.

Eleanor stood on the other side, looking unsure of herself.

"What's up?" he asked as he gestured for her to enter.

Eleanor didn't say anything as she wandered down the hall. She reached the living room and turned back to Marshall, still lost in thought.

"Eleanor?" he asked, getting worried, "What's wrong?"

"Mary's been misusing federal resources," she told him quietly.

Marshall smiled, relieved it wasn't something more serious.

"Some would argue that Mary_ is_ a misuse of Federal resources."

"This isn't funny, Marshall."

"What's she done? Has she stolen your favourite pen again?"

"This is more serious than stationery supplies."

"What's she done?" Marshall asked again, serious this time as Eleanor's lack of humour registered.

"She put a travel alert on someone..."

"Who?" Marshall was instantly curious despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Raphael Ramirez."

Marshall stared at her, shocked, as the information sank in.

"And you know this...how?" he enquired as his brain started processing the implications.

"I got a phone call from a booking agent..."

Eleanor opened her bag and handed him the details that had been faxed over earlier. Marshall looked at them as if they were about to bite him before reaching out to take them from her. He read the details quickly, the words 'One Way' jumping out at him and nearly preventing him from reading the rest.

"Does she...?"

"No. I haven't told her. She wasn't in the office when the call came. I was supposed to go over there to give her...but I came here first. I..."

Eleanor may have continued, but Marshall had stopped listening.

He was torn.

He desperately wanted to shield Mary from the hurt that was coming her way as she was deserted once again. He wondered if they could just _not tell her_, but common sense intervened and he reasoned she must have suspected Raph was going to leave her or she wouldn't have put a travel alert on him.

As his eyes snagged on the words 'One Way' again, the tiny spark of hope that lived in his heart caught and for a moment morphed into a flame until it was doused by the realisation that a twice abandoned Mary was going to be much harder to win. That was assuming she had wanted notification of Raph's departure just as part of her masochistic nature and not because she intended on trying to stop him leaving.

Eleanor watched as Marshall's jaw tensed, the only outward sign as to his emotions. She wondered what was running through his head as he stared at the booking confirmation. She hadn't wanted to be the one to tell Mary of her fiancé's plans. Plans that obviously didn't include Mary. She had debated whether to tell Marshall about the phone call she had received, uncomfortable with the idea of sharing personal information, unsolicited, when Mary was so secretive herself. Ultimately though, she had needed Marshall's advice as to how to handle this potential time bomb so had justified her actions by telling herself that if Mary wanted information on Marshall then turn about was fair play.

"Marshall? What should we do?"

"We have to tell her. She obviously suspects something...or she wouldn't have..."

Eleanor realised he hadn't heard the rest of the information she had told him.

"Marshall, he's been gone a while..."

"What?"

"He's been at the Quality Inn on West Iliff since Wednesday. I pulled Mary's phone records. She called a dozen motels in the area. That was the last one, I called them and they confirmed that he was still there and that someone from our office had called a couple of days ago."

"Has she called him?"

"Not from the office," she handed him another sheet of paper detailing the phone calls made from the office, "I haven't seen her cell records."

Marshall didn't say anything for a long while.

"Do you think she kicked him out?" Eleanor asked.

"No." Marshall sounded certain although he had no reason to be, which he quickly realised, "What makes you think that? Did she say something to you?"

"She told me he thought she was sleeping with someone else."

Marshall's eyes flicked to the floor, confirming Eleanor's suspicions that he was the alleged other man and he knew it.

"She also mentioned they were having problems..." Eleanor was afforded Marshall's most patient stare as he waited for her to find the words to describe his partner's relationship troubles, "...They were having problems in the bedroom department." Eleanor blushed slightly as she finished.

Marshall's eyebrows shot up.

"She asked me if I'd ever had sex when I hadn't really wanted to," she gave him the basics of their conversation, unsurprised to see a slow burning fury in his eyes.

"She said she was uncomfortable with him, but she didn't say why. I can't imagine Mary tolerating that for long, so it wouldn't surprise me if she kicked him out," Eleanor concluded.

"Let's hope she did," Marshall agreed with pent up rage.

If Raphael had hurt her...

He didn't finish his thought, instead focusing on what needed to be done.

"You said you were going over there...?" he checked.

"Yes. I have some information she wanted."

"Okay, you have to give her this as well," he said handing the sheet of paper back to her, "Don't tell her you came to me."

Eleanor shook her head as she tucked the paper back into her bag, preparing to leave.

As she let herself out, Marshall resisted the urge to drive over to the Quality Inn and beat the crap out of Raphael, preparing instead, to wait for the call which he knew would come once Mary heard Eleanor's news.

xxx

Mary looked up to see Eleanor standing in her bedroom doorway. She'd heard the knock on the front door but had let Brandi get it, not wanting to leave her refuge and deal with her family.

"Hi," she greeted as she turned down the volume on the TV.

"Hi, your sister said you were in here and I have that information you wanted..." Eleanor told her, looking around the room for any sign of Raph.

Mary sprung off the bed and gestured toward the kitchen, "That's great, Eleanor. Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure, what do you have?"

Mary opened the fridge and peered in, "Ummm...water, soda..." she glanced at the empty coffee maker, "that's about it."

"Water's fine," Eleanor told her as she sat at the table.

"So what did you find for me?"

"Not much, but I've filled in some gaps."

"Okay, let's have it," Mary said excitedly.

"I called Rob Carlson, his supervisor in Arlington," Eleanor began, "He said all the standard stuff you would expect him to say about Marshall, always punctual, good team player, perceptive etc. He did say that he didn't work well with a partner which is how he ended up in a team, I found that strange."

Eleanor stole a quick look at her notes before continuing, "Rob told me that Marshall was offered the WITSEC promotion about six months before he actually transferred. He turned it down the first time, but not the second. He didn't know what caused his change of heart only that he was sorry to see him go. He did mention a girlfriend, Gemma MacIntyre, a court reporter from West Virginia. I ran an NCIC check on her and she came up clean."

Mary stored the information about the girlfriend away and asked, "Did he mention Marshall's parents at all?"

"No, he didn't mention them and there's no mention in the file Rob sent me. I'll contact the Colorado branch tomorrow and see if they have anything. They must know his dad at least."

Mary nodded, studying the file that Eleanor had handed her containing more details of Marshall's time in Arlington.

"There's one more thing, Mary. It's not to do with Marshall, but I thought you'd want to know," Eleanor dug the travel details out of her bag and slid them across the table, "This came through earlier..."

Mary took the piece of paper and read the name and flight information. She struggled not to react in front of Eleanor although the news hit her like a blow to the stomach, knocking all the air out of her.

Eleanor watched her carefully, not noticing Brandi as she entered the room.

"What you got there, Mary?" Brandi asked, seeing her sister was upset yet still not managing to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Mary could only shake her head in reply.

Brandi grabbed the paper from her and read.

"Jesus! Mary, just what did you do to him to make him leave the country?" Brandi yelled, making Jinx emerge from the other room.

"What's going on?" Jinx enquired.

"Perhaps I should be going," Eleanor suggested, but was drowned out by Brandi.

"Raph is leaving!" Brandi told her mom, on the verge of tears, "It's not enough that she drove him away, but she's...she's..." she didn't finish as the tears overwhelmed her.

"I thought he'd already left...?"

"Yeah, but now he's leaving as in leaving the country leaving," Mary filled her mom in.

"You said you didn't know where Raph was...?" Jinx asked although to Eleanor it sounded more like an accusation.

"I didn't. I put a travel watch on him at work," Mary told them sounding defeated.

"I can't believe you made my only friend leave! You make everyone in your life leave! It's not enough that Dad left because of you, you just had to push Chico away too, didn't you?" Brandi yelled through her tears.

"I didn't make him do anything!" Mary countered, finally getting annoyed at the accusations, "_He left!_ I didn't make him. I thought things were going okay between us, then I come home to find out he's gone! So don't you go making this my fault, Brandi. If Raph chooses to leave, then he's not the man I thought he was and he's welcome to go."

Mary stormed out of the room, leaving a weeping Brandi, a confused Jinx and a stunned Eleanor behind. A moment later she blew past them again as she left the house, jacket and car keys in hand.

xxx

Marshall sat trying to watch TV as Mary prowled around the room.

She had arrived several minutes ago and not said a word to him only throwing her jacket over the arm of the sofa and her keys onto the table before commencing her stalking up and down in front of the TV.

Marshall hadn't offered her any words of advice or encouraged her to talk, knowing that would come later when she had paced herself out. In the mean time he focused resolutely on the mute TV and waited.

After half an hour of pacing and silently fuming to herself she gave up and collapsed on the sofa, next to Marshall.

"So...did you have a good evening, then?" Marshall asked, breaking the silence with his sarcastic tone.

Mary shot him an evil look.

Marshall smirked and resumed his waiting.

"Raph left," Mary stated quietly.

Marshall raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I came home from work on Wednesday and he was gone," she continued, "Mom and Brandi didn't know where he was and his clothes were gone. I managed to track him to a motel..."

"Have you called him?" Marshall asked gently.

Mary shook her head.

"They blame me," she confided.

"Who do?"

"Brandi and Jinx. They blame me for his leaving."

"So? It wasn't your fault." Marshall told her with a shrug.

"Darren thought so. He said it was my fault," Mary pointed out.

"It wasn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because Raph's a fool. He doesn't know what he has...had. He never appreciated you for what you are, Mare."

"So he doesn't deserve me? Is that what you're saying?" Mary sounded angry at the platitudes.

"Yes."

Marshall's succinct answer, so full of certainty and without a hint of hesitation or appeasement, drained Mary of her anger.

"He tried, Marshall," she told him tiredly, "That's more than most men I've...He was the only one that tried."

"He obviously didn't try hard enough."

Mary stared at him a moment before answering, "No one should have to try _that hard_ to make it work. God, Marshall, what is wrong with me? Why do I drive every man in my life away?"

Marshall pulled her closer to him and wrapped his arms around her, muttering into her hair, "Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing at all."


	34. Night, Mare

**AN: **You can blame/thank nemain13 for this chapter. I've been reading Family Traditions and was left wanting and just found myself writing this. Not what I had planned at all. Thanks again to everyone who has taken the time to review.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 34 – Night, Mare.**

Marshall lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

He had woken several times during the night, the light sleep he had fallen into was that which he usually attained when escorting a witness. Then, as now, he was aware of the person in the next room that was his to protect.

Eleanor had called him earlier that night, worried about where Mary may have gone. Once he had assured her of her safe arrival at his, Eleanor had given him the Cliff notes version of what had occurred at Mary's house. That was the point at which Marshall had decided to kidnap Mary and make her stay at his for the night. His kidnapping plan had only failed in one regard; Mary hadn't put up much of a fight to his suggestion, rendering the kidnapping part of his plan unnecessary.

He stretched his arms above his head. He allowing the stretch to travel down his body as he arched his back like a cat, the bed covers slipping down his bare chest as he did so. He let his body relax and slumped on the bed making it creak quietly.

He looked over at the LED display of his alarm clock.

3.03 am.

He watched the three change to a four and realised he could hear a noise from the next room.

There was another muffled sob and Marshall was out of bed in an instant. He walked silently down the hallway in his bare feet and stopped outside Mary's door. He could hear her shifting around and pushed the door open quietly. The gap revealed Mary lay curled up on her side, crying softly. Marshall pushed the door open further causing her to look up. She wipe her tears away angrily, not wanting him to see her crying.

Marshall padded into the room and made his way to the far side of the bed. Mary followed him with her eyes until he moved out of her eye line. She felt the bed dip as he got in next to her, but she still wasn't prepared when he curled himself around her.

He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her close so that her back was pressed firmly against his chest. She felt her tears subside as she relaxed into his embrace.

"Do you want to talk?" Marshall asked gently.

Mary didn't say anything just moved her hand so she could grasp his, holding it in place over her stomach. Marshall stroked her abdomen through her top as he waited for her to respond.

"I dreamed I was trapped in that basement again," she told the wall.

Marshall tightened his grip on Mary.

"I was alone," Mary continued, still addressing the wall, "I wasn't tied up, but the door was locked. I kept trying to make someone hear me. I kept yelling for help but no one came."

Mary shuddered.

Marshall lay still, offering her whatever comfort she would take from his presence.

"I got the door open. Or it opened by itself, I don't remember," she shook her head to rid it of the confusion of the illogical sequence of the dream. "When I got outside there was no one there. The house was deserted. I was in pain. Or I was bleeding. I don't know. I just knew that I needed help. Medical attention. I think I was bleeding, I knew I didn't have long to find someone."

Marshall could feel Mary tense as she recalled the events of her dream. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and tucked his chin in behind her shoulder so his lips brushed against the base of her neck. They lay still until Mary relaxed enough to continue.

"I went to the hospital, but there was no one there. Everywhere I went was empty, like they had just left. Everyone had left. The hospital was deserted. I remember the beds were unmade like some one had just got out of them. All the machines were still on and beeping, as though they were attached to people, but that was the only noise. There were no people anywhere. Everyone had left me."

"It was only a dream, Mare."

"It felt real. It always feels real."

"It's not real. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere," Marshall reassured her about the underlying cause of her nightmare.

Mary uncurled and turned in his arms. She placed a hand on his chest as she attempted to get closer to him. He was warm and solid to her touch. He tucked her head under his chin as she burrowed as close to him as she could. He could feel his body respond as her hands traced across his chest. He beat his feelings down and tried to concentrate on something other than her hands, but couldn't stop his own hands reciprocating the move as he stroked her back.

She murmured and shifted under his touch, arousing him more.

He resisted the urge to kiss her. Her hands moved round to his back as she clung to him. He tried to keep his breathing low and even. He failed when he felt her lips on his chest causing his breath to hitch.

"Mare?" Marshall pushed her away slightly.

She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him. She slid her hand from his back, back along his chest and up his neck until it rested on his cheek. She reached up to kiss him gently. Marshall didn't resist but didn't seek to escalate it either.

Mary stopped and looked at him.

"Marshall?"

He closed his eyes as he shook his head slightly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Marshall asked.

He didn't want to take advantage of her when she was hurting. He didn't want to hurt her himself either, but he still needed to ask.

"Raphael..." he gently reminded.

"Don't." Mary cut him off.

"I don't want to..." Marshall began, "...I just want to be sure you want this. Eleanor mentioned something about you not wanting to with Raph. I don't want you to regret...anything."

Mary stared at her hand on his chest as she traced lazy circles across his skin. She placed a kiss at the base of his throat before joining her lips to his again.

"Mary, what happened that night with Raph? Did he hurt you?"

Mary shook her head as she kissed him again. Marshall stopped her, restraining her hands gently in one of his. He stroked her face.

"Mary, I need to know."

"He didn't hurt me, Marshall. I was just uncomfortable with him the last time we..." she paused as she felt Marshall tense.

She wondered just how much detail he would be comfortable with. She knew he was waiting for more so she continued describing that night in the broadest strokes.

"He wanted to go slow, but I felt like something was wrong, like he wasn't doing it right. I let him take control," she shook her head as she edged her body closer to Marshall's, seeking his comfort as she remembered her uneasiness from that night, "I shouldn't have."

Marshall allowed her to move closer and stroked her back soothingly.

"Did you tell him to stop?"

"No. He didn't believe I loved him. Stopping would have...I didn't know how else to...I didn't want to stop."

Marshall listened in silence to the words she wasn't saying.

After a while, he asked, "Didn't want to or felt you shouldn't?"

"What difference does it make?" Mary asked angrily, pulling away.

Marshall didn't let her go as he told her, "There's a hell of a difference, Mare."

Mary shifted uneasily, indicating her disagreement.

Marshall let go of her and turned onto his back letting his hands rest on his stomach.

"God, Mary! I'd hate to think you slept with me just because you felt you should."

Mary watched him as he ran a hand through his hair. She propped herself up on her elbow and reached a hand over to him, taking hold of his hand.

"I didn't. I don't know why I did...but it wasn't because of that."

"I shouldn't have let you..." Marshall breathed.

"Let me?" She smirked.

"Yeah. I should have stopped you..." he amended his statement, "...us."

"You did what I asked," she reassured him, silently adding, _"You always do."_

"I shouldn't have. You were with Raph. I should have respected that."

"Why?" She asked as she started running a hand up and down his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin under her fingers.

"Because I knew you were angry with him and I shouldn't have let you use me to get back at him." Marshall tried to ignore the sensations being created by her fingers.

"Do you regret it?"

"Mare..." he sighed, not knowing how to answer.

"Do you?" she pressed, sounding hurt.

"The act itself, no. But if I could change the circumstances under which it occurred then, I would."

"What would you have changed?"

"I would have made sure Raphael wasn't an issue."

"He's not any more," she said quietly as if she was admitting to a shameful secret.

"You could still fix it with him if you wanted to..." Marshall suggested though it nearly killed him to sound casual as he did so.

Mary said nothing, just continued running her hand over his chest.

Marshall tried a slightly different approach, "Why didn't you tell anyone he'd left?"

"I didn't want their pity," Mary conceded.

"Why didn't you tell _me_? He's been gone almost a week. When were you planning to tell me?"

"I thought he might come back."

"Do you want him to?" Marshall asked hesitantly, dreading the answer.

"I don't know."

"Did you tell him about us?"

"No. What's with the twenty questions?"

Marshall shrugged, "You're answering them. I have to take advantage of that when I can."

Mary gave him a half smile and moved to lay closer to him, stilling her hands then laying her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her back and stroked her hair with with his other hand.

Just as Marshall thought she had fallen asleep he heard her ask, "Why do you think he left? Do you think he found out about us?"

"I don't know. You could always ask him. If you don't ask him, you'll never know."

"Mmm," Mary agreed non-committally, resolving to give the idea more thought in the morning as she felt herself slowly fall asleep.


	35. A Mann to Man Chat

**AN:** I struggle writing Raph but my 6 am muse decided to help me out on this one (only after I'd spent two days procrastinating, though).

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 35 – A Mann to Man Chat**

Marshall sat in his car outside the Quality Inn on West Iliff.

He'd slipped out of the office on the pretence of taking Darren dinner. He had delivered the food then taken off after making a flimsy excuse to Darren. He had driven straight to the other motel and had been sitting outside since.

He had been trying to decide all day whether to approach Raphael or not. More to the point, he knew Mary had been making the same decision. Now he was sat outside, he still wasn't sure if he was there to speak to Raph or to see if Mary did.

xxx

Mary let herself in to Marshall's house.

She had left the office shortly after Marshall, knowing he would be a while talking to Darren. She hadn't gone home, preferring to avail herself of the peace and quiet at Marshall's. Not to mention his washing machine. She'd managed to grab a few changes of clothes the last time she had gone home, but consecutive nights of sleeping at the office then Marshall's had quickly depleted her stock. She knew she could, _should_ go home and get more or actually spend the night in her own house, but the thought of facing Brandi and Jinx's accusations about her role in Raph's departure was more than she could face at the moment.

No, it was easier to sneak into Marshall's house and do her laundry there.

She'd emptied her bag onto the floor and was stuffing her dirty clothes into the machine when she realised that there wasn't enough for a full load. Cursing, she wandered into Marshall's bedroom and rummaged through his laundry basket pulling out a couple of black shirts and a pair of jeans to add to the machine. Satisfied the machine was full and running, she pulled a beer from the fridge on her way through the kitchen and sat in the living room, her feet on the coffee table, beer in one hand and remote in the other as she settled in to have an hour to herself.

Her time to herself was soon interrupted by her ringing phone.

She looked at the caller ID but didn't recognise the number. She stared at it a moment before she identified the area code as Washington DC.

"This is Mary," she answered.

"Hi, Mary," came the woman's voice from the other end.

Mary thought for a moment until she placed the voice.

"Ellen! Hi! How are you?"

"Okay, how are things there?"

"Oh. You know...How's the desk job treating you?" she dodged.

"It's good. I spend all day reading files and pushing paper. Still, there's been some talk about an inter-agency task force dealing with international crimes. I may try to worm my way onto that."

"Would that put you back in the field?" Mary asked, concerned.

"No, I'd try to get involved in the organisation of it all. After six years in Europe coordinating dozens of police forces all speaking different languages, dealing with _our_ inter office politics should be easy."

"Ah, you say that but if you knew the trouble we have getting cooperation from the local PD you wouldn't be so confident..."

Ellen laughed.

"Speaking of inter office politics, I got an interesting call today..."

"You're not about to reveal a state secret are you?" Mary joked, happy to tease Ellen about the covert nature of both their jobs.

"No, it wasn't _one of those_ calls. It was from my Dad. Apparently someone from your office has been making calls looking for information on Marshall. Would you know anything about that?"

Mary kept silent.

"That's what I thought." Ellen confirmed. She was serious as she said, "Whatever it is you're searching for, stop looking. If you really want to know about him, just ask. It'll piss him off much less. Unless that's what you're after, then I'd be happy to give you some pointers..."

"I think I've pretty much got a handle on that..."

"Okay, just call off the hounds," Ellen told her.

"I only realised recently how little I know about him, his history, his family..." Mary said, trying to fish for information and agreeing to nothing.

"Yeah, he can be quite secretive. Did you know he had a pet cat for three years before any of us found out?"

"Really? How old was he?"

"About twelve when he first got it, I think."

"What happened when your parents found out?"

"They kept it, had the thing for years even after Marshall and I left for college."

"Your parents sound nice," Mary fished some more.

"Yeah," Ellen agreed, deliberately sounding distracted so she wouldn't have to expand on the subject.

"So, Marshall mentioned something about going home for Christmas..." Mary lied, trying to find a way into the topic she wanted to discuss, for once applying subtly and tact to achieve her goal.

"Did he?" Ellen sounded excited, "What did he say?"

"Just that you were going and he wanted to see you..." Mary bent the truth slightly, she liked Ellen too much to lie to her outright.

"Did he actually say he was going to go?" Ellen asked, suspicious.

"No," Mary had to admit, "I know he'd like to see you though."

"I'm sure." Ellen agreed dryly, "Just not enough to brave going home."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Mary asked, given the opening.

"You'll have to ask him," Ellen dodged.

"I did. He said he didn't want to talk about it."

"Is that what you were trying to find out from Dad?"

"Among other things," Mary conceded.

Ellen laughed, "Good luck getting it out of Dad. It took _me_ three years to find out what they fell out over."

"How'd you find out?" Mary asked, if she couldn't get an answer at least she might find out where to look.

"Mom told me. She'd just found out and needed to vent, so she told me."

"And you're really not going to tell me?"

"No way," Ellen told her, humour in her voice, "You have to make your bones like the rest of us. Get him to come home for Christmas if you really want to see the sparks fly..." she suggested, then added quietly,"...Plus, I'd owe you one..."

"I'll see what I can do," Mary agreed, intrigued.

"And in the mean time, you'll lay off the background check?"

"If I have to..."

xxx

Marshall found himself outside the room the desk clerk had told him was occupied by one Raphael Ramirez. He wasn't sure what he was going to do or how he had got there. He suspected he had flashed his badge at the kid behind the desk but didn't care at this point.

He knocked on the door and waited a couple of seconds before it opened.

"Marshall?" Raph greeted him, surprised.

"Hi, Raphael."

"Is Mary with you?" Raph asked hopefully.

"No. She doesn't know I'm here."

Raph visibly deflated.

"Were you hoping she would come?" Marshall probed gently.

"Of course." Raph admitted as he indicated for Marshall to come in, "I could have gotten a flight home days ago, but I waited hoping she would find me. Or at least notice I had gone."

"Oh, she noticed, trust me," Marshall muttered as he glanced around the fairly standard motel room.

"Did she?" Raph asked, the glimmer of hope resurfacing.

"Did you honestly think she wouldn't notice being abandoned again?" Marshall's tone was sarcastic as he looked out the window, instinctively checking the parking lot for threats or Mary's car.

"I didn't...She...I didn't abandon her..."

"Sure looks that way from where we're standing." He turned from the window to look at Raph.

Raph noticed the odd phrasing, "We?" he questioned.

Marshall shrugged, "Who do you think is picking up the pieces?"

Raph looked sheepish, "Is she okay?"

"She has nightmares about being deserted by everyone, but I don't suppose I can blame those entirely on you," Marshall revealed, "But the frequency and intensity, that I can."

Raphael considered that information. He felt bad that he had left without a word and that he had upset Mary, but he couldn't ignore the little nagging voice at the back of his mind asking, _how did Marshall know what Mary dreamt about?_

"She never had nightmares when she slept with me," he said, half defending himself, half hoping to provoke Marshall into admitting he was sleeping with her.

Marshall stared at him in disbelief, "She's been having nightmares for months, how did you not notice?"

"Well, I'm sorry!" Raph yelled as he started pacing, "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of your precious Mary well enough for you! Well, she's all yours now. You two are prefect together, you both have standards that are impossible to meet!"

He sighed, calming, "You don't have to worry about me, I'm going home tomorrow if that's what you came to check on..."

"That's not what..."

"Then, what do you want, Marshall?" Raph asked, getting angry again.

"You're really not going to fight for her?" he asked, not believing Raph would just give up.

"You don't get it do you?"

"Why don't you explain it to me?"

"I've been fighting. Everyday since I met her, I've been fighting to keep her. I can't do it any more. I can't compete. I can't compete with you."

"With me?"

"I can't compete with you and you're not even in the game. It's like I'm Joe DiMaggio, I can play and I can win. But you, you're the 1921 Yankees and you still have Babe Ruth on the bench. If you ever decided to step up to the plate, I wouldn't have a chance. You make it look easy."

Marshall said nothing.

"Did you come here to talk me into going back?"

"No." Marshall shook his head, "I just wanted to know why you left."

Raph looked at him a long while before deciding his words and interest were genuine, "That last night we were together, she couldn't bring herself to say she loved me. She said she'd show me. But I know Mary well enough to know she doesn't equate sex with love so when we started..." he tailed off and shrugged, "...I knew then."

Marshall leant against the small table in the room and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't know what to say.

Raph continued, "She'd offered to go over to yours earlier that night, just in case you didn't want to be alone. She never offered me that. Never considered I may want to see her and spend time with her outside the bedroom. Perhaps I shouldn't have given in to her so much. I never denied her anything. I tried to give her everything she wanted. And she wants commitment and stability, even if she doesn't admit it. She just didn't want it from me."


	36. Mann Down

**AN: **Another chapter thanks to my 6 am muse and it can't be coincidence I've just read the latest chapter of nemain13's Family Traditions. If you haven't read it yet and you're old enough to do so, you really should.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 36 – Mann Down**

Marshall was drunk.

He knew he was drunk. He'd made a concerted effort in college to become familiar with the various stages of drunkenness available to him. He'd justified it as building up his tolerance and making sure he knew his limits in case he every needed to get drunk with a suspect or informant to elicit information. So he knew he was drunk.

The informant in this case had been Raphael.

At some point during their conversation at the motel Marshall had taken pity on the other man and had suggested they go to a bar for a quiet drink.

The quiet drink had quickly become several and the two men had spent a few, almost pleasant, hours in each others company as they commiserated with each other over why neither of them had Mary's love.

"She tried with you," he'd told Raph.

"It didn't feel that way," Raph had replied, his accent strong thanks to the alcohol.

"She told you things," Marshall had whispered, "what she does for a living..."

"She only told me that so she'd have an excuse not to tell me things!" Raph had exclaimed prompting Marshall to hush him.

"She told you because she wanted to trust you," Marshall had corrected when the sound level had returned to a more acceptable level.

Raph had just huffed in response.

"That's Mary's version of trying. She's better with actions than with words. You just need to understand her."

"Are you saying I don't understand my own fiancée?"

Marshall had been saved from having to reply as Raphael carried on regardless.

"Oh, I understand her! I understand her when she says she doesn't need me to be her friend because she has you! It's her that doesn't understand! She doesn't understand that I want to be her friend too. Otherwise, what is the point? What makes me different from any other man?"

Raph had taken another swig of his beer at that point, leaving Marshall wondering how to answer.

"Some times I think she'd be better off marrying you," Raph had confided, surprising Marshall.

"Marriage is about partnership," he had declared to the bar in general, "You two are partners, as she is so fond of telling me. You should sleep with her. It would be much easier for her to teach her _friend and partner_ how she likes sex than to let someone new in."

He had sneered at the words 'friend and partner'. Marshall had wisely said nothing and continued sipping his drink.

Raph had leaned toward him and told him, "_I_ can tell you what she likes. She doesn't even need to do the teaching herself! That, I am qualified for! That's what I got out of this relationship. I am a fully qualified sex toy!"

Marshall hadn't been able to cover his laughter at the looks Raph had received from the other patrons at that declaration.

"I know you meant more to her than that," Marshall had tried to convince him, "She hasn't been home for days..."

"Ah! But where has she been staying?" Raph had demanded.

"She's spent a couple of nights at mine..."

"Exactly!" Raph had claimed like that proved his point although by then neither man had known what his point was.

"That last time, that was goodbye," Raph had confided, "I knew when I started kissing her, that was goodbye. I wanted to make love to her slowly. To please her one last time. But she wouldn't even let me have that! No! She had to be on top! She had to be in control!"

Marshall had commiserated with him and ordered two more beers.

At some point they had switched from beer to shots which, incidentally, coincided with Raph beginning to describe Mary's likes and dislikes in bed. As Raph conveyed more and more details of his and Mary's sex life Marshall clung to the alcohol as a life line along with the knowledge that he had experienced some of the things Raph was describing. Even through his steadily increasing drunken haze he recognised some of the things Raphael was telling him weren't correct. His drinking slowed as he replaced it with the growing feeling of smug satisfaction that even after one night with Mary he could still read her better than Raph could after countless nights.

The reduction in the rate of drinking proved to be a good idea as it left him able to remember not to correct Raph when he told him that Mary liked it when he sucked her earlobes, one of the more tame details he had chosen to share.

It also left him coherent enough to recognise he was drunk and ensure they both got home okay. Which is how he came to be strolling up his drive at some time past midnight after getting the cab driver to drop him a couple of blocks from his house to give him chance to sober up. The walk in the cool, late November night had taken the edge off the alcohol as intended. However, the residual buzz and the time alone had given him the recklessness and opportunity to remember that night with Mary unhindered, leaving him frustrated.

Marshall was drunk, horny and ready for bed.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, his bed was already occupied.

Mary lay asleep in his bed, sprawled on her stomach, one leg poking out from under the covers and he couldn't help but notice it was clad in one of his pyjama bottoms. She'd fallen asleep with the light on.

He stood in the doorway for a long time watching her sleep.

Finally he moved toward the bed and knelt on the edge. His weight on the bed next to her made her stir. He brushed the hair back off her shoulder revealing the strap of her tank top where it had slipped down her arm. She opened her eyes blearily.

"Marshall?"

"Mmm?" he replied as he continued to stroke her shoulder, settling himself further onto the bed to do so.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh," he soothed, not stopping the motion of his hands.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Yeah." It was pointless denying it, he was sober enough to realise that.

His stroking had morphed into a gentle massage.

"Okay," Mary murmured as she let him work at the near permanent knots in her shoulders.

"You're wearing my pyjamas," he pointed out needlessly.

"Mine are in the wash," she informed him as his hands moved down her back, "I didn't think you'd mind..."

"I don't," he confirmed as he slid his hands under the hem of her top and continued his massage.

"But it begs the question; what am _I_ going to wear?" he purred.

"I assumed you'd have more than one pair," Mary muttered into the pillow.

Marshall sighed, "That's really not what I was getting at, Mare. I think you've missed the point," he said getting up off the bed.

Mary looked up confused. She'd been enjoying his ministrations but then he'd stopped. She peered at him thoughtfully as he stripped off his shirt, his back to her.

"Oh, were you trying to seduce me?" she asked, once she'd worked it out.

"Yeah, apparently not very well..." he said as he removed his pants.

She flipped onto her back and raised herself up on her elbows.

"No. You were doing a great job," she reassured him, briskly, "Get back over here and finish it off."

Marshall smiled at her over his shoulder as he made his way into the bathroom clad in only his boxers. She slumped back down onto the bed, disappointed when it was clear that he wasn't going to continue.

"Why were you trying...?" she called into the bathroom.

"To seduce you?" he called back over the running water.

"Yeah."

Marshall appeared at the door, toothbrush in hand, "I don't know, Mare. I come home and find you in my bed, wearing my pyjamas. What was I supposed to do? To think?"

He disappeared back into the bathroom leaving Mary to consider the situation from his point of view and mentally concede he had a point.

"I thought this would be the simplest way of letting you know I was here," she explained, "I was going to wait up for you, but it got late."

"I don't care _why_ you're here," he told her as he re-emerged, "I _like_ you being here. But you can't blame me for reading more into it."

"I wasn't."

He walked around the bed and climbed in beside her, still marginally too drunk to care about his lack of pyjamas. He lay on his side facing Mary and pulled the covers up high. Mary turned so she mirrored his position and reached out a hand to move the lock of hair that had fallen forward, out of his eyes. He closed his eyes to savour her touch so was surprised when her hand continued down his face to his neck where it caressed his skin on it's way to his shoulder and from there, his arm.

"Marshall, you're cold."

"I walked home," he said, his eyes still closed.

"Idiot."

"Mmmm..." he agreed as he felt Mary move closer to him, warming his body with hers.

The warmth of her presence and the residual alcohol in his body served to encourage him to fall asleep until he was prodded sharply in the ribs.

"Jesus, Mary!" he muttered.

"How drunk are you?"

"About 34 percent," he smiled.

Mary rolled her eyes, "Only you. Are you too drunk to...you know...?"

His eyes snapped open and he regarded her, measuring her level of seriousness.

"No. Some would say I'm just drunk enough," he smirked and to prove his point he settled a hand on her waist and allowed his thumb to trace small circles there, occasionally catching her skin as the movement made her top ride up slightly.

"Good," she whispered as she leant forward to capture his lips in a slow, tentative kiss.

His hand on her waist tensed, tightening his grip on her and making Mary squirm under the pressure. The sensation lasted only a couple of seconds as he and his hand quickly relaxed. The alcohol allowed him to let go and enjoy the kiss without worrying about complications, to simply exist in the moment, to act purely instinctively as Mary opened her mouth slightly giving him the breach in her defences he needed to deepen the kiss and grant his tongue access to her.

His hand slid to the small of her back as he pulled her closer and held her there as his other hand came up to rest on her breast, tracing the outline through her top. Mary moaned slightly, distracted by his lips as they moved gently over hers and her tongue met his in a slow sensual dance. Their tongues explored each other, sliding hot and wet over the others, touching and retreating when desired, touching and engaging when necessary.

Marshall shifted his weight so he had more access to Mary's warm body in front of him. He pushed her back slightly encouraging her to lay on her back, she complied and soon found her body covered by his. She stretched her arms up and looped them loosely around his neck as his head remained bent to kiss her. His hands where in her hair, tangled in her loose locks as he held her and supported himself on his elbows.

He extracted one hand from the mess of her hair and rested it on her cheek as his tongue once again slid into her waiting mouth. He allowed his fingers to caress her face, blazing a trail for his lips as they migrated from her mouth and moved to her jawline, not kissing, just grazing her skin and pausing every so often to kiss, nibble or taste her. The motion continued down her neck and Mary found herself just laying there and enjoying the sensation. She made no move to rush him or fondle him other than to stroke his bare back with long sensuous movements.

Marshall continued his journey down her collar bone causing her to throw he head back and gasp as his shift in position allowed her to feel his erection press against her. He glanced up, momentarily pausing his ministrations to watch her writhe under his attention. She returned the glance, curious to see why he had stopped and was rewarded with the sight of him gazing at her, his eyes heavy lidded with lust, a small half smile on his lips.

"Marshall," she caressed his name with her voice and his face with her hand.

The sound of his name on her lips was enough to make Marshall forget everything he had ever known.

Mary watched his eyes glaze over in response to her touch.

They held the tableau a moment Mary enjoying the power she had over him from just one word, Marshall just enjoying Mary before he recalled his previous task. He smiled suggestively at her then resumed his path with his lips, the knowledge that he could kiss, touch or taste her body at will the only stimulus he needed.

He drew his lips ever downward until he encountered the barrier of the neckline of her top. He pulled it out of his way, stretching the material to its fullest extent to reveal as much of her skin as he could. When the natural tensile strength of the cotton defeated his best efforts he simply moved his mouth so it met Mary's breast regardless of it's covering. He slid his hands under her top to complement the actions of his mouth.

He allowed his hands to roam over her stomach as they made their way to her breasts. His mouth located her nipple through the light cotton and he licked and swirled his tongue across the erect nub, the wet material rubbing against her, the friction and texture increasing her pleasure. His hands caressed the sensitive skin of her chest while his mouth remained fixed on her nipple, covered by both him and the top.

Mary's breathing increased as she felt his thumb flick across her nipple, the skin on skin contact making her gasp before it was replaced with the delicious wetness of his mouth returning to her, this time with no material obstructing the feel of his soft, moist lips on her inflamed nipple. His gentle kiss was the last sensation she felt as he moved to her other breast to begin his effort there.

She realised her breast had been aching for his touch the instant the tip of his tongue came to rest on her nipple and she let herself be engulfed in the sensations he was creating in her body.

As focused as she was on the touch of his mouth she didn't notice the migration of his hands down her body until they slid inside the pyjama pants and cupped her ass. They didn't linger long on her backside as Marshall made short work of removing the pants, noticing as he did so she was bare underneath. The knowledge she had been wearing his pyjamas with nothing between her and them made his breath hitch almost as much as the moisture he felt as he caressed her.

He stole a glance at her before he moved down her body, desperate for a true taste of her. She lay with her head back, mouth slightly open and eyes closed as she continued to ride the pleasure he was causing her. He pushed her legs apart. At the first touch of his tongue she arched her back, gasping and calling his name. Her hands clenched the sheet on the bed.

He listened to her response, noting intensity and vehemence.

At the second touch of his tongue she let loose an incoherent string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, simultaneously invoking any deity or saint she could name.

Marshall was no sailor, he simply smiled and applied his tongue a third time.

Once more his name was called, this time as a plea, begging him not to stop.

He smirked, but didn't stop.


	37. Contains Scenes of Mild Peril

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 37 – Contains Scenes of Mild Peril**

The day dawned bright and cold.

Marshall awoke listless and cold.

He stretched his arm blindly across the bed, searching for warmth. His roving hand was unable to locate Mary but did find the covers she had stolen from him during the night. He pulled them up and over his head, blocking out the daylight to the relief of his burgeoning headache.

His memory of the night before was startlingly clear.

He wondered where Mary had gone, but didn't want to get out of bed to find out. Instead, he tried to calculate the probability that Mary had bolted after last night but found the problem hurt his head more than the light.

He was saved from additional pain by Mary's voice from the doorway.

"How's your hangover?"

"Coming along nicely," he replied from under the covers.

"Here," she said, accompanied by the sound of a cup being placed on the bedside table.

He peeped out to see a steaming cup of coffee on the table. He weighed the benefits of acquiring the coffee against the drawback of moving and loosing the warmth of the covers. The draw of the coffee proved too strong to resist. He flipped onto his back carefully to ensure no part of him was exposed to the chill morning air and stretched out a hand for the coffee. The coffee must have sensed his need as it came to him and made contact with his hand long before his hand reached the table. He stuck his head out to see Mary's hand still attached to the cup as she handed it to him.

"I couldn't find any aspirin, but I did find acetaminophen," she said offering him two tables and sitting next to him on the bed.

He eyed the tablets warily.

"What?"

"I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this treatment..."

Mary blushed, "I can think of several things last night."

Marshall hid his grin behind his coffee cup but still didn't take the tablets.

"Don't you want them?"

Marshall shook his head.

"Why the hell not? I don't want you to be whiny all day because you have a headache and are too stubborn to take a pill."

"Shouldn't take acetaminophen with alcohol," he mumbled.

"You're not taking them with alcohol. I haven't dosed your coffee! Jesus, Marshall, when did you get so suspicious?"

"I've always been this suspicious," he chuckled, "and there's still alcohol in my system."

"Geez, you're such a boy scout!" she said.

Marshall ignored the often repeated insult.

"Come back to bed," he tempted.

"It's Wednesday."

"So? Come back to bed."

"Wednesday. The day before Thursday. Thanksgiving," she reminded him.

"Crap!" he exclaimed, jumping out of bed.

He rushed into the bathroom, coffee still in hand. Mary smirked as she watched him go, then returned to the kitchen and her own mug of coffee to prepare for their unusually busy day.

xxx

They pulled up outside Darren's motel twenty minutes later than normal. For once their lateness was Marshall's fault; he had insisted on stopping at IHOP for breakfast.

Darren opened the door to the two marshals and greeted them with a smile that increased when he saw the familiar brand name on the carry out bag.

"Oh, pancakes! To what do I owe this honour?"

"It's hangover food," Mary said.

Darren took the offered container and put it on the table, "Who's hungover?"

Mary looked puzzled but answered, "Marshall."

Darren looked at the other man as he retrieved some cutlery for the three of them, "Bad date?"

Marshall shook his head then regretted it.

"You were on a date last night?" Mary asked confused.

She had assumed he'd been drinking with Darren the night before, but Darren obviously had no knowledge of Marshall's impromptu drinking session.

"Yeah, he told me he was meeting someone," Darren wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "I didn't have to ask the spirits why he was in such a rush to leave here after that."

Marshall said nothing, just picked at his pancakes slowly, hoping his stomach would accept them.

Mary felt strangely used. He had been on a date with another woman then come home and made love to her. Perhaps betrayed was a better word. Mary stabbed her stack of pancakes angrily eliciting a questioning look from Marshall. She glared at him and returned to her breakfast.

"So...Are you two working tomorrow, or do you get the day off?" Darren asked. He didn't need to be a psychic to sense a change of topic was in order.

Marshall looked at Mary and seeing she wasn't going to answer, forced himself to speak.

"We're working. Don't worry, we're not going to forget you and let you starve," he attempted to joke.

"You know, if you could get me some supplies, I could cook something for the three of us..." Darren offered, eyeing the small kitchenette attached to the room.

"There's no need to do that..." Marshall tried to decline.

"Don't be stupid. I can't have you two miss out on Thanksgiving dinner, just because you have to babysit me! Plus it will give me something to do, it'll be fun!"

"Well, if you're sure..." Marshall accepted on their behalf, ignoring the piercing stare Mary was giving him.

xxx

"I can't believe you!" Mary growled as soon as they were out of earshot of Darren's room.

"What? What was I supposed to say? I couldn't turn him down!" Marshall defended himself, his hangover somewhat abated now he had eaten, although his headache was still raging.

"Not that, you asshole!"

"Then what?" Marshall asked over the roof of the SUV as they opened the doors.

"You going out on a date last night!" Mary told him as she slammed the door.

"Huh?"

"Don't play innocent with me, jackass!"

"I wasn't on a date last night," he insisted.

"Then where the hell were you? Who were you drinking with?"

Mary's tone and the sound of the door slamming had frayed his last nerve and made his patience evaporate.

"You know what, Mary? I'm not some witness to interrogate!" he said as he jabbed the keys into the ignition and turned them with more force than was necessary, "I don't have to tell you everything."

Mary ignored his short temper, attributing it to his hangover as they pulled out the parking lot.

"Why won't you tell me!" she demanded.

"You wouldn't like the answer," Marshall responded dully.

"Jesus, Marshall. There's no need to go all Jack Nicholson on me. I just want to know where I stand. I want to know if I'm gonna be your standby girl for when a date heads south and you're left wanting some easy action!"

Marshall jerked the steering wheel sharply, pulling the car over, ignoring the honks he got from the neighbouring cars at his sudden move.

"Is that what you think last night was about?"

"I didn't. But now I'm thinking, maybe, yeah."

Marshall shook his head, "Mare, I'd never do that to you." He ran his hands through his hair. "Do you honestly think I'm capable of that? Why would anyone be out on a date if you were waiting for them at home?"

"I don't know what to think. You won't tell me!"

"Fine! I was out with Raph."

Mary had opened her mouth to reply, expecting him to dodge the question or lie, but his answer threw her and she closed it again. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that was not one of them.

"Raphael Raph? My ex-fiancé Raph?" she felt the need to check.

"Do you know any other? Unless we're talking about the master painter of the renaissance period who supposedly died after a night of wild sex with his mistress..." he attempted to defuse the situation.

Mary glared at him and he shut up, suddenly realising now probably wasn't the time to be talking about mistresses.

"Why?" Mary asked so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"I don't know. I went over there thinking I would...That I could...I don't know what I was thinking," he admitted. "But we started talking and ended up in a bar..."

"Did you ask him...?" Mary trailed off, not sure if she wanted to know.

"Yeah," Marshall breathed.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from him, out the window.

Eventually, he had to ask, "Do you want to know?"

Mary sat staring out the passenger window a moment longer before pulling out her note pad and crossing something off. Marshall caught sight of the now deleted item; _Raph?_ was all it said.

"We need to get moving," Mary said, "We're late for the Lerner's."

Marshall observed her a long while, checking she was okay before pulling out into the traffic on their way to the next witness visit of the day.

xxx

The Lerner's were Mary's newest family.

She'd picked them up the day she and Marshall had managed to get Darren back to Albuquerque in one piece and they'd been relatively trouble free since then. They'd been in witness protection for four years before being relocated to New Mexico so had been fairly quick to settle in, but didn't know the area after only a week.

Mary had offered to take Carol Lerner shopping for holiday supplies and somehow Marshall had also been volunteered.

They pulled up at the apartment complex and got out the car, still squabbling.

The security door was propped open, obviously by the woman saying goodbye to her boyfriend in her slippers, so they walked straight in and up the stairs to the second floor apartment Mary had managed to acquire for them on short notice. As they walked down the corridor they noticed the apartment door was ajar.

Instantly alert, they silently hurried the last few feet of the hallway and flanked the door, their Glocks in their hands. They listened intently at the open door, but heard no sound coming from the other side.

All thoughts of their previous argument were forgotten as they looked at each other, preparing to enter the unknown with only the other as backup.

Mary nodded, signalling her readiness and Marshall pushed the door open with his foot. Mary glanced round the corner, weapon at the ready and pulled back quickly. She nodded again to indicate her line of sight had been clear then quickly entered the apartment, trusting Marshall would follow.

They cleared each room with the speed and easy of many years of practise, regrouping in the living room when they were certain they were the only ones there. They looked round the room.

There was no sign of a break in and nothing appeared to be missing, other than the Lerners.

Marshall headed back towards the bedrooms while Mary took the kitchen.

They both returned to the living room, once again.

"Clothes and toiletries are still here," Marshall informed his partner.

"Fridge is full and..." she didn't finish as the door burst open, causing both marshals to draw their weapons again.

They were quickly holstered as they recognised Carol Lerner.

"Hey, Mary, Marshall. What's up?" Carol asked, concerned by the look on the other's faces.

"Where the hell were you?" Mary demanded, practically pouncing on the woman.

"I went down to take the trash out," Carol explained.

"What were you thinking leaving the door open?"

"I was only gone a minute..."

"Yet in that minute, anyone could have walked in!" Mary emphasised.

"Anyone did walk in," Marshall muttered with a pointed look at Mary and a small grin.

Mary shot him her _now is not the time _look and he subsided, content to watch Mary work.

"Carol, there are people out there who still want to hurt you. I know it's tempting to think after all this time the threat has diminished, but that's because you don't see the hate mail the FBI intercept. I do. So trust me when I say; you have to be more careful!"

Carol looked upset at the mention of hate mail.

Mary took pity on her, "Where are the girls?" she asked gently.

"Carly is next door, she's made friends with the girl there and Madison is out with her dad."

Mary nodded, "Okay, then. So, are we ready to go shopping?"

Marshall was impressed, she almost managed to sound enthusiastic.


	38. Thongs Get Complicated

**AN: **Thanks to Iluvdolphins for generously posting this idea on the IPS forum's fanfic thread. It really fit here and I hope I've done it justice.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 38 – Thongs Get Complicated  
**

They made a strange group wandering around the mall; Mary, Carol and Marshall.

Mary and Carol were of an age so could easily be accepted as friends despite their differences in physical appearance. Carol barely reached Mary's shoulder when they stood together and her diminutive stature was even more apparent when she stood next to Marshall. Her attitude to shopping was evident in the way she practically bounded around the stores, touching every item regardless of whether she intended to buy it or not. Mary kept up with her frantic shopping style, vicariously enjoying the pleasure the other woman got out of having someone shop with her, even if she didn't enjoy the experience itself.

Marshall trailed behind the two women unenthusiastically. He was bored. Every so often Mary would shoot him a look and he'd either reward her with a patient smile if she was being good or an encouraging nod if that seemed to be required. They asked his opinion and rolled their eyes when he failed to provide a satisfactory answer. Mary's eye roll always included a glimmer of amusement at his discomfort. His payback came in the form of Mary's slightly panicked glances as she struggled to play the role of Carol's supportive girl-friend, a role she had never been comfortable with or had much experience at.

For his own part, he played the part of a dutiful partner, but he couldn't relax in such a crowded environment, the constant threat of danger didn't let him. He was alert for potential trouble from several directions; from Mary as she interacted with the world, from the world if it decided to attack their witness or from overeager sales assistants trying to sell him the world.

The third time the assistant brought into their play acting and assumed he was married to one of the women he accompanied, he decided to have a little fun and rather than correcting him simply said, "Wives, actually," with a self satisfied grin.

The second time he amended in the plural, Carol caught him and stared at him in horror.

Marshall just shrugged and told her with a small smile, "What? I'm a guy. We're genetically programmed not to like shopping. I have to get my kicks somehow."

Carol looked surprised. The WITSEC inspectors in charge of her case in Rhode Island wouldn't have recognised a joke if it jumped out and attacked them. And if it had, they would likely have shot it where it stood rather than let it get away and risk it causing someone, somewhere to laugh. She had assumed all US Marshals were the same so was pleasantly surprised that Mary was smiling wryly at her partner as he stood there with an evil gleam in his eye.

"I don't think you can blame your genes for the fact you're not having fun. It's more likely to be the fault of the alcohol from last night," Carol told him, having caught him taking painkillers for his hangover.

"Actually, studies have shown that men and woman have different physiological responses to shopping. In women, the act of purchasing an item stimulates the pleasure centres of the brain in much the same way sex does..."

"Typical man, always got sex on the mind..." Carol laughed.

Mary tried not to blush as the concepts of Marshall and sex were linked in her brain causing a sudden flood of images from the previous night. She turned away and looked at the display before her as something caught Carol's eye across the other side of the store making her hurry off. Mary regained her composure and followed.

As she passed Marshall leaning casually on a shelf she couldn't resist asking, "What did I do to get upgraded to a pretend wife?"

Marshall fell into step a pace behind her and leant down to whisper in her ear, "I can think of a couple of things last night."

xxx

By lunch time Carol had completed most of her shopping, much to the relief of Mary and Marshall.

They were making their way to the food court when Carol stopped suddenly, causing the marshals to do a double take and a quick survey of the crowd, checking for potential threats.

"Can we just stop in there?" Carol asked, indicating the shop she had come to an abrupt halt outside of.

"Do we have to?" Marshall all but whined.

"Dan's been so down lately, I'd really like to get a little something for him. You know, to cheer him up."

"That's nice of you," Mary said as she eyed the store warily.

Carol took that for consent and boldly lead the way, not hearing Marshall's muttered protest of "Oh, God."

Carol stopped at the main display in the doorway, giving her protectors a chance to catch up with her and so that she could get her bearings. Disregarding the sections for everyday day underwear she homed in on the fancy lingerie then wove her way deeper into Victoria's Secret.

Mary's eyes boggled at the selection of sexy lingerie available.

She had a few pairs of lace panties left over from her dating days, but hadn't felt the need to buy anything other than comfortable and functional since she had got serious with Raph. He hadn't seemed to care what she wore, but then she had never kept them on long once things got going between them. Now she could attest to the fact underwear design had come a long way since she had last seduced someone.

She picked up a particularly flimsy set thrown carelessly on the display table and turned them around in her hands, trying to work out which way was 'up'. She looked at Marshall, her usual source of support and help in these situations, but was surprised to find him deliberately avoiding eye contact with her, anyone else in the store and any item on display.

Carol came to her rescue, "They're crotchless," she said as she turned them to their correct orientation.

"Why?" Mary asked, puzzled by the entire concept.

Carol shrugged, "Ask him," she said nodding in Marshall's direction to where he was trying not to get caught looking at a black lace thong.

Mary considered this a moment.

"Hey, Marshall, crotchless panties. Yes or no?" she called across the shop.

Marshall turned a very satisfying shade of red as he pretended not to know her, although his reaction clearly identified him as Marshall to the few women in earshot of Mary's question.

Carol laughed and continued searching for something her husband would like. Mary also continued viewing the items, occasionally giving Carol an opinion on a set she held up or asking for one herself as she discovered that not all sets were horrendous.

She kept half an eye on Marshall, amused by his reactions to the underwear and her thoughts turned to a conversation from long ago. Something about an invitation to a fantasy, she couldn't remember exactly what he had said other than he had indicated his approval of this particular use of lace and elastic. She watched him move around the store, trying not to get in the way of the women unashamedly holding panties against themselves and seeking others thoughts on design and material. She noticed him _not_ looking at several pairs of panties and that he seemed to return to one pair and _not_ look at them more than the others.

She made her way over to the panties he was being so careful not to show any interest in, meandering through the shelves to make it look like coincidence that she ended up there. Her nearing presence drove him away from the stand so she could look unhindered at whatever had caught his attention.

They were tiny.

The merest sliver of black lace in the shape of a thong.

She mentally prepared ways in which to mock him mercilessly about his taste in underwear when something caught her eye. She looked at them more closely, there was silver thread running through the lace, so that it almost sparkled in the right light.

She turned them over in her hands. Actually, they weren't bad. They were really quiet pretty, but not in an overly girly way. The more she looked, the more she could see herself wearing these and feeling sexy and elegant in them. She found herself digging through the pile to find a pair in her size. She glanced at Marshall before pulling out the correct pair and was relieved to find him being distracted by Carol as she solicited a man's opinion from him. Mary grabbed the panties and randomly selected a few others from the table so she could disguise her purchase and headed over to Carol to see if she had found what she wanted.

Marshall raised an eyebrow as he saw Mary carrying a selection of panties.

"What?" she demanded, "I need new underwear. It seems stupid not to get it while I'm here!"

"Did I say anything?" he asked when she had finished defending her right to shop.

Carol broke into their bickering to show Mary her choices and they made their way to the checkout.

As their purchases were rung up, Marshall tried to get a look at what Mary had chosen. He had seen her near the panties he'd been trying so desperately not to imaging Mary in, at least not until he was alone and could give his imagination free reign. He knew she would never wear something like that and if she did, the chances of him seeing her in them were slim, even after last night.

His view was obstructed by Mary and his attempts at clearing his line of sight were beginning to draw attention from the girl at the till.

He persisted and finally managed to catch sight of a flash of silver as the girl scanned the barcode.

He stared at Mary.

Had she really bought them?

Had she just taken a liking to them?

Or had she known that he'd been looking at them?

If she had seen him looking, that opened up the startling possibility she had bought them for him.

Marshall quickly crushed that hope. Her fiancé had just left her. She had probably brought them just to feel sexy. If she had given it that much thought. He wouldn't be surprised if she had just grabbed several pairs of panties without really looking at them. There was no way she could have known his preference and there was even less chance his opinion would have affected her choice.

He'd just managed to convince himself of this when Mary turned and saw him watching as the girl packed her choices. She glanced at the bag just as the thong was going in and turned back to Marshall making sure she caught his eye.

She gave him a shrug and half smile, a sentiment of _what's a girl to do? w_ith a hint of _I couldn't resist _being conveyed silently between the partners, leaving Marshall wondering if his initial assessment was more accurate than his subsequent rationalisation.

xxx

It was as they were unloading Carol's purchases from the back of Marshall's car that two things happened.

The first was that Marshall's phone rang and he moved away to answer it meaning he didn't hear the conversation between the two women, which was the second thing.

Mary was dragging one of the fold up chairs out the trunk when her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "What are the chairs for? I thought you had some."

Carol pulled the other chair out the trunk and leant it against the car.

"I do. There are four for the dinner table, but I'll need six tomorrow," she told Mary.

"Who else have you invited?" Mary enquired, surprised that Carol would have made friends in Albuquerque quickly enough to be comfortable inviting them over for Thanksgiving and concerned she may have asked someone from her former life.

Carol looked at her puzzled, "You and Marshall, of course."

"Huh?"

"I'm sure I mentioned it. I wanted to thank you for taking me out today. You didn't have to do that and I know neither of your really enjoyed it, but I had great fun. It's so nice to go out without the kids for a while _and_ have some grown up company. So I wanted to thank you and what better way than to invite you to Thanksgiving? I know there are rules about accepting gifts etc, but surely a home cooked meal isn't prohibited?"

Mary couldn't recall any rule about not accepting invitations to dinner other than those concerning who paid. She was forced to concede that it probably wasn't against WITSEC regulations.

"Good!" Carol exclaimed, "So, you'll come then?"

Mary nodded reluctantly, unable to think of a reason not to go, then picked up the chairs and carried them into the Lerner's apartment.

When she returned, Marshall was just hanging up the phone.

"How'd you get out of carrying anything?" she called to him as she opened the car door.

"Are we done?"

His phone call must have lasted longer than he thought if Mary and Carol had carried all the goods into the apartment and said goodbye.

"Yeah," Mary confirmed, waiting for him to get in the car.

"Who was on the phone?" she asked as he pulled his door closed and reached for his seatbelt.

"Brandi," he said, then waited for the fallout.

"What did she want?" Mary was immediately wary.

"She wanted to know if you were ever going to go home and more specifically if you'd be home tomorrow."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I'd make sure you were there for dinner!" he told her with a smug grin.

"Holy hell, Marshall, tell me you are joking!"

"Nope."

"I've just agreed to have Thanksgiving with the Lerners. There's no way I can manage two family get togethers."

"Three, actually," he reminded her.

"What?" she squeaked.

"We agreed to go to Darren's as well," he said, flinching slightly as he prepared to hit with something.

"Why the hell did we agree to that?"

Marshall just grinned and turned the car toward their next destination...


	39. Witness This

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 39 – Witness This**

All the way from the Lerner's apartment to their next witness Mary complained.

At first it was about the piss poor communication between them that had resulted in the acceptance of three invitations to Thanksgiving dinners.

When Marshall had finally snapped and yelled, "For the love of God, Mary, change the Goddamn record!" she had obliged and segued seamlessly into how much the underwear she had just brought had actually cost.

As they got out the car at Amy's house she was asking him for the fourth or fifth time, "Seriously, how can something so small cost so much?"

Amy opened the door to find Mary in full rant about the size to cost ratio of lingerie, with Marshall by her side, a pained expression on his face.

Amy took one look at the pair of them and burst out laughing before dragging Marshall inside, leaving a slightly surprised Mary to follow.

"So, to what do I own the honour of this visit?" Amy asked as they entered the kitchen-diner.

"Oh, you know, it's been a couple of weeks since we visited, so it's just your normal check in," Mary replied.

"It's only been about a week though..." Amy pointed out.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, Marshall came to see me last week," Amy informed her, surprised that she didn't already know.

"You did? You went to see a witness without me?" Mary asked Marshall.

"I did. Unlike you, I'm allowed out the office without a babysitter," he joked, trying to deflect.

Mary deliberately faked a laugh, "I don't remember you telling me..."

"It was the day after..." he started, taking a moment to recall when it had been. It dawned on him suddenly, "...It was last Monday. You probably had other things on your mind," he excused.

"Oh, you mean the thing in California?" She tried to recall what would have distracted her on that day in particular.

"I think he meant from the day before," Amy put in, easily recalling what she and Marshall had discussed on his last visit.

Mary turned to face her, her back to Marshall so she didn't see him frantically waving his hands in a crossing motion and mouthing 'no' to Amy.

Amy _did_ see his gesture and neatly sidestepped the inquisition Mary was about to launch.

"I remember something about a bet? Isn't that what you were talking about, Marshall?" she asked innocently. "How's that going?"

Marshall breathed a silent sigh of relief as Amy avoided revealing that he had told her about his first night of passion with Mary and thanked his lucky stars she didn't know about their latest adventure in the bedroom.

"I won!" Mary announced triumphantly, oblivious to Marshall's inner turmoil.

"It's over?" Amy asked, sounding disappointed.

"It is." Marshall confirmed, "Although she didn't win."

"I did – Ellen didn't question whether or not we were together so that means I won!"

"Amy, did we, or did we not say that if my sister tried to set me up with someone then I won?"

Amy looked thoughtful.

"Sorry, Marshall, I don't remember the terms only that you said she couldn't convince your sister that she was your fiancée."

Mary grinned smugly at him and stuck her tongue out, her point proven. Marshall glowered at the two women to cover his amusement.

Amy laughed, "How did you two ever get to be US Marshals?"

"He was bred for it," Mary joked, indicating Marshall with a toss of her head.

Amy looked intrigued by Mary's offhand comment, so Marshall took a seat at the kitchen table and rapidly changed the subject.

"So, how have you been? Any problems I need to know about?"

"No, everything's been fine. I got invited out by some of the girls I work with this week."

"Where'd you go?"

"Just to one of their houses' then on to a club. It was nice just to be out as one of the girls and not have to worry about..." Amy trailed off as she remembered nights out from her past life. "Anyway," she shook her head to rid herself of the unpleasant memories, "I had fun, although I don't have much in common with the other girls."

"Are they older than you?" Marshall asked, thinking that was the source of her dissimilarity.

"No, they're all my age. They just seem to think that not having the latest sneakers or wearing the same outfit as someone else is the end of the world," she told them a hint of sadness in her voice as she realised she had been denied that sort of life; where trivial aspects could take on great importance in lieu of things of actual importance.

"Perhaps you'd be more at ease with older friends," Mary suggested.

"I doubt I'd have much in common with them either, most the older women at work are all married with a kid or two," she told them, trying to sound like she didn't care. "At least all my friends back home were in the same boat..."

"You're not thinking of calling any of them, are you?" Mary asked concerned.

Amy sighed, "No. It'd just be nice to have someone to talk to that...understands."

"That's what we're here for," Marshall reassured.

"Oh, is that what you do?" Amy joked, realising the impossibility of her situation and resolving not to dwell on it.

"Among other thing," Mary agreed. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm going to Mrs. Winters' for dinner," she said with a happy smile.

"Who's Mrs. Winters?"

"She's the receptionist in the office. Her family lives in Canada and she can't afford to visit them so she's invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her."

Amy looked at the two inspectors and noticed the relief flood their faces.

"Why? Were you worried I'd take a trip back to Houston?"

"It's always a concern around the holiday time that new witnesses or ones without family will risk making contact with someone from their former life," Marshall confirmed.

"But we're just happy that you're not going to invite us to dinner," Mary said, tactlessly.

Amy looked stunned by Mary's statement until Marshall explained, "We're already triple booked."

"How did you manage that?" she asked.

"Doofus, here was distracted and agreed to have dinner with my family!"

"I did no such thing, I said I'd make sure _you_ were there. I never agreed to stay beyond delivering you."

"There's no way in hell I'm going to sit through dinner with my family without you there to run interference," she told him in no uncertain terms.

Amy sat back enjoying the bickering of the two marshals, wishing she had someone in her life that she could depend on like that, a friend, a boyfriend, a co-worker, she didn't care which. She envied Mary for being able to have all three in the same man if she wanted. As she contemplated their relationship with each other and with her, a new thought occurred to her.

"Hey, how do you become a WITSEC Inspector?"

Mary and Marshall stopped their argument and looked at Amy, confused by the sudden change in topic.

"Why?" Mary asked, warily.

"I was just wondering if I could become one," Amy explained.

Mary and Marshall exchanged a glance, trying to determine if she was serious. Amy looked at them expectantly.

"Why would you want to do that?" Marshall asked, playing for time.

"It makes sense. If I was a marshal I'd be able to protect myself, I'd be giving something back to society and the program and I'd be surrounded by people who understand me even if I still couldn't tell them I was a witness," she listed, liking the idea more and more.

The three of them considered the idea in silence for a while.

"Do you think my criminal record would be a problem?" Amy asked, thinking of all the problems she'd have to overcome.

"It's easier to get round than you might think," Marshall said, not wanting to shoot her hopes down and giving Mary a covert glance.

Mary huffed, "Hey, mine was for minor misdemeanors and they were all thrown out by the State Attorney! She worked as a prostitute and killed a man, there's a big difference."

"She shot a man in self defence. As have you." Marshall gently reminded her, "The only difference the two incidents is a rather fine legal distinction, not a moral one."

"What about if she had to go to Houston to escort a witness. Technically she'd be in breach of her own WITSEC agreement," Mary pointed out, not believing that Marshall would give serious consideration to Amy becoming a WITSEC inspector.

"That is quite a conundrum," he agreed.

"And what about her past presenting an additional danger to her witnesses?"

"_That_ would be a problem," he told Amy.

"I could cut my hair and dye it, no one would recognise me," she suggested, "plus the Harmond's are in jail now."

"You can't just sign up for WITSEC, though, Amy. You generally need to be recruited from a lower level in the Marshal Service," he explained.

"Really? How did you get recruited?"

"I helped protect someone from a crazed gunman," he told her with a grin making her wonder if he was telling the truth, "and I was recruited from there."

Amy smiled, "So you saved someone and then they just made you an offer you couldn't refuse?"

"Not at first," Marshall admitted, "I turned them down the first time the offer was made, but after the thing with the shooter, I had to admit the work would probably suit me."

"Why did you turn it down the first time?" Amy asked, aware that Mary was hanging on every word but was too stubborn to ask her partner for the information she wanted.

"My girlfriend didn't want to move. I tried to persuade her but she was adamant."

"So what changed?"

Marshall shrugged, "Me, I suppose. I wasn't happy that she wouldn't even consider moving even though I could understand why she didn't want to. In the end I decided I wanted the job more than her, so I broke it off with her and signed my life away," he said with a small, sad smile.

"Do you regret it?" Mary asked, unable to contain her curiosity for the sake of maintaining her uncaring persona.

Marshall looked at her, knowing she wanted reassurances that she had done the right thing by putting work before Raph time and time again.

"I try not to, but I've given up a lot for this job and it's hard not regret what might have been with Gemma."

"Do you still miss her, then?" Amy asked.

"Not her specifically, but the life I could have had with her. That's what's hard to give up. I'd probably be married by now with a kid or two," he revealed.

Mary suddenly understood the source of his frustration at not getting to say goodbye to Ellen when she left. For such a family orientated man to give up a chance of a family of his own for his job then for his work to get in the way of seeing the few family members he had, had to be hard. Although he had used work as an excuse as to why he didn't see his parents, she had known he was lying when he had told her that was the reason. Mary still couldn't work out why he didn't see them when he made no secret of how important he considered family to be. She could see him falling into a self-pitying introspection as he considered just what the job had demanded of him and decided to pull him out of it, kicking and screaming, if she had to.

"But you wouldn't have met me if you hadn't joined WITSEC!" Mary declared with false joviality.

"That's true," he agreed. He turned to Amy, "I don't know if that's designed to encourage or dissuade you."

"I don't know," Amy said thoughtfully, "it must be nice having the sort of friendship you two have. Always having someone there you can rely on."

"Yeah, it is." Marshall said quietly, making Mary look at him in surprise. She had always considered their friendship from her point of view, she had never thought that Marshall relied on her as much as she relied on him.

"The chances you getting into the WITSEC branch of the Marshals Service are slim, but if you want, I'll ask around for you, see what the higher-ups say," Marshall offered.

"Yeah, okay." Amy agreed, not completely deterred from the idea. "So how are you going to manage three Thanksgivings?"

"I have no idea," Marshall replied.


	40. The Neverending Thursday Part I

**AN: **Sorry, folks, for the delay. A lack of inspiration, time and knowledge of American customs slowed me down on this chapter. Thankfully, the lack of knowledge and inspiration was overcome with help from (in no particular order) Grammar Maven, Kathiann, Yankee306 and Nemain13. So send them presents/cookies/reviews/nice thoughts. Unfortunately, they couldn't do anything about the lack of time...

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 40 – The Never-ending Thursday (Part I)**

Marshall did a double take as Mary emerged from her house.

After visiting their most at risk witnesses yesterday, they had returned to the office for a short while before Marshall had convinced Mary to take him to find and pick up his car. He had left it parked outside the bar from the previous night and had been worried all day that it would end up getting towed. When they got to the bar, he had been relieved to find it still there and Mary had mocked him for all the times he had criticised her attachment to her Probe while he was hugging the roof of his.

They had driven home separately and it was only as Marshall had pulled into his drive that he realised when Mary had said 'home' she had meant hers.

He had wallowed in his disappointment for almost half an hour until Mary's call came. The conversation only lasted a few minutes but it temporarily relieved his loneliness and set the tone for the rest of the evening.

By the time he was getting ready for bed there had been seven phone calls from Mary and four phone calls to Mary. Like teenagers, it seemed that each time they hung up, one or the other would remember another detail they wanted to share. It had started with Mary checking which items of clothing she had left at his and had quickly morphed into a flurry of calls coordinating their plans for the following day with those of their witnesses'.

At one point Mary had asked him what he planned to wear to their Thanksgiving meals and he had told her, but being a man, had attached no significance to the enquiry. Which was how he came to be surprised by Mary's appearance this morning.

Mary closed the door behind her and made her way down the steps to where Marshall sat in his car. Even from this distance she could see the surprise on his face from the way he sat staring at her with his mouth open. As she got to the bottom of the steps she turned sharply, unintentionally causing her skirt to swirl around her legs.

Yes, Mary Shannon was wearing a skirt.

Voluntarily.

And Marshall couldn't take his eyes off her.

She got into the passenger's side of his car and watched in amusement as Marshall's eyes became riveted to her legs. As she sat, she smoothed the skirt down over her thighs so it almost reached her knees, the material was man made and the design was simple, slightly flared yet still functional – a typical skirt suitable for an office environment, but the way Marshall was staring at her made her feel like she was wearing the latest offering from a top designer.

She had never seen him regard her with such open desire before.

Well, maybe she had, but she still found it slightly unnerving.

"See, this is why I never wear a skirt to work," she said to break the tension.

His eyes met hers for an instant before falling back to her legs, "Huh?"

"Jesus, Marshall! Get a grip! It's only a damn skirt," she told him as she folded her arms over her chest defensively.

"But it's on you..."

"What? Can't I wear a skirt? Is it illegal? Or is it against WITSEC regs?"

"No," he admitted, "it's just not like you."

She looked a little hurt, "You said you were wearing a shirt and tie. It sounded like I should wear something more...formal."

He looked at her properly and noticed all her insecurities showing on her face and in her posture. It dawned on him that her family get-togethers were probably a lot different from his and the idea of joining someone else's family for a holiday celebration was taking her out of her comfort zone.

"You look nice. Really nice. You'll be fine. We'll go, talk, eat and you'll fit in fine," he reassured.

She was amazed that he knew how desperately she wanted to fit in and not reveal her less than ideal family background to a bunch of strangers she then had to work with. She gazed at him steadily as he flashed her a smile full of mischief.

"You _do know_ how to use a knife and fork, don't you?" he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Do you want me to drive?" she asked, ignoring his comment, "Or will you be able to keep your eyes _on the road_?"

xxx

They made a quick stop at the office where they studiously avoided any mention of anything personal.

Marshall made no further comment about Mary's skirt or her legs, leaving her feeling strangely disappointed. Neither mentioned Raph's departure of the previous day, although Mary did surreptitiously check the passenger lists to see if he had actually boarded his intended flight. When she saw his name on the screen in black and white as a confirmed passenger, she wasn't sure how she felt, but she was surprised to find relief identifiable in her mix of emotions.

For her part, Mary didn't raise the topic of Gemma, freely discussed yesterday, yet an inappropriate subject for today it seemed from Marshall's mood. She'd quickly discovered he was willing to talk if Mary started a conversation and was ready to joke with her if she gave him an easy opening but his heart wasn't in it. If she didn't ask a question or chose a topic, he would remain silent and when the question was answered or the topic exhausted, he would made no effort to continue talking, preferring to sit in silence with his thoughts.

The WITSEC office was empty other than the two of them, Stan and Eleanor partaking in whatever festivities they had planned.

They checked their email and the inter-agency bulletins, made arrangements to use a car from the car pool for the day and made no reference to their most recent night of passion.

xxx

"So, what's the difference between yams and sweet potatoes?" Darren asked.

Mary and Marshall had arrived half an hour later than planned which hadn't concerned Darren too much as preparing the dinner was taking longer than expected in the tiny kitchen. The extra time had given him chance to lay the table and tidy up. Now, he stood at the small sink, peeling the sweet potatoes that had sparked the conversation. Mary and Marshall sat at the table, watching him. Marshall had offered his help but Darren had refused, stating the kitchen was barely big enough for him, let alone for a helper too.

"Well, what we know as yams aren't actually yams," Mary began, eliciting a surprised look from Marshall. She smiled smugly at him and rattled off quickly, "When soft sweet potatoes were introduced into this country, they were marketed as yams to distinguish them from the already widely available firm, sweet potato. So really, they're just a different type of sweet potato."

"Huh. How do you know that?" Darren enquired, impressed.

Mary nodded her head toward Marshall, "It's not my first Thanksgiving with him." She smiled at him, sharing their private joke, "Wait 'til he starts on about the levels of tryptophan in turkey and how it's not the tryptophan, but the carbohydrates that cause drowsiness."

Marshall just leant back in his chair and smiled despite the fact Mary had just ruined the surprise portion of his interesting tryptophan fact.

"Oh. We're not having turkey," Darren said.

"We're not?"

"No. The Marshal that you sent to get the food couldn't get a turkey, they were sold out. So, they got tofurkey instead."

Mary and Marshall exchanged an anxious glance. Marshall decided a change of topic was in order before Mary could express her opinion on the current one.

"Who's the fourth place for?" he asked, taking the earliest opportunity to satisfy the uneasy feeling he'd had since seeing the four places set at the table.

"That's for Simon."

Marshall and Mary maintained eye contact with each other as Darren, oblivious, continued, "I don't know if he's going to show up, but I thought I'd lay a place in case he found me."

Marshall didn't know whether to laugh or be concerned about his witness, either way this was going to be one of his more interesting Thanksgivings.

xxx

Mary put down her knife and fork, indicating she was done eating.

The plate before her was anything but empty. She looked critically at the contents, making sure it could at least be mistaken for finished with due to the artful way the remaining food had been distributed around it. She felt bad that Darren had spent the entire morning struggling to prepare a traditional dinner for them in the tiny confines of the motel room kitchenette, but the resulting meal had only served to confirm Mary's suspicions that the task was impossible.

The lack of amenities had forced Darren to do a scaled down menu, for which Mary had been grateful. She wasn't a fussy eater, but the green bean casserole had been cold and too runny in the middle but burnt and rock solid around the edges. Logic dictated that there should have been a very small section that was actually edible, located an unknown distance from the edge. Mary had tried to find the point at which it was cooked properly but had failed, leaving her wondering how Darren had achieved a such a sharp transition from uncooked to burnt.

The sweet potato had been hot all the way through, but the Marshal responsible for buying the ingredients obviously had no experience with cooking as he had brought white sugar in place of brown, so emphasising the sweet nature of the sweet potato dish. She had managed to eat most of the portion Darren had given her, using it to disguise the taste of the tofurkey, or it's lack of taste to be more precise. The Stove Top dressing had been overly salty and too dry although that had proved to be a blessing as it had absorbed the juice from the green bean casserole, effectively hiding it from view.

She looked over at Marshall's plate to see if he had suffered the same as her through the meal, but was amazed to find it empty. Properly empty, not just disguised as such. Marshall saw her looking and flashed her a grin, leaning over to steal the couple of slices of tofurkey that she hadn't managed to hide. She looked on in horror as he put them on his own plate and started cutting them up.

He turned back to listen to Darren, who was telling them about his previous Thanksgivings with Simon, both from when he was dead and, more interestingly, when he was alive.

"But he just sat there grinning at us, surrounded by smoke and bits of cranberries. We had to spend the entire weekend redecorating the kitchen," Darren told him, causing Marshall to burst out laughing.

Mary smiled and shot Marshall a puzzled look, she'd been too focused on hiding her food to hear the beginning of the story so didn't get the joke.

Marshall had taken control of the conversation shortly after they had arrived, relieving Mary of the onus. The friendly, open persona he had projected was a complete change from the brooding one present in the office and car. It was a persona Mary had come to know well over the years, it was that of Marshall Miller. She had smiled slightly when she had recognised it, amused by how similar they could both be. When it came to hiding behind their assumed identities, they were both masters, flawlessly playing a role that allowed themselves to compartmentalise their personal problems and their work lives. Marshall Miller appeared less often than Mary Shepard did and his presence nearly always flagged an alarm for Mary, making her wary for potential problems in their friendship. As a result, Mary paid more attention to the conversation as Marshall started describing one of his more memorable Thanksgivings.

"The first year I visited my then-girlfriend's parents, I managed to set light to their shed."

Marshall looked at the surprised faces before him and began painting the picture for them, "For some reason, her family always barbecued on Thanksgiving, regardless of tradition and the weather.

"This particular year, I remember it being freezing. It can't have been much more than 15 or 20 degrees; it wasn't a record low for DC in November, but it was close. The few people that braved the outside only did so if they were wrapped up in thick coats and several layers. Most people stayed inside, only coming out to get food. No one told me about the barbecue until I got there, so I only had my normal coat and jacket on. I was trying to impress her parents, so I volunteered to help her dad with the barbecue. Maybe I thought it would be warmer there, I don't know.

"Anyway, we'd cooked all the food without incident and without freezing and I thought it was going well. I'd been bonding with her dad and knew I'd made a good impression when he asked me to make sure the barbecue was properly out and put it away." He stopped as Mary and Darren groaned simultaneously, realising where the story was headed.

Marshall grinned and continued, "It was one of his prized possessions, so I was thrilled that he was trusting me with it. He went back inside and I tidied up outside, thinking it wouldn't take long for the barbecue to cool down enough to be emptied and put away. It was still hot when I had finished tidying and all I wanted to do by then was go inside and thaw out.

"I knew you shouldn't leave a barbecue unattended, but I was really cold, so I moved it next to the shed, where I could see it from the kitchen window and went inside. I got distracted talking to a couple of the other guests and the next thing I knew someone was pointing out the window at the shed. I still remember the look of absolute horror on the guy's face and the sight of the flames licking up the side of the shed when I turned around to see what he was pointing at."

"What did you do?" Mary asked, enthralled, when it was clear Marshall wasn't going to tell them without encouragement.

"I didn't do anything for ages. I just stood there watching it burn. My mind went blank. All I could think of was 'Stop, Drop and Roll,' which was no help to me when it was the shed of fire and not me. I just couldn't think of a way to get the shed to roll on the grass. Thankfully, one of the guys I'd been talking to had more sense and ran out and got the garden hose. He had it out in a couple of minutes, but the shed was pretty badly scorched."

"What did her parents say?"

"They were very understanding. They teased me about it for the rest of the day and after that they never mentioned it again. But, strangely, I never got an invite to Thanksgiving again. Christmas, Fourth of July, New Year - all of them I was invited to, but never Thanksgiving. I don't know why."

He sat back with a silly grin on his face as he recalled the day in question and watched Mary and Darren laugh at his telling of the story. What he didn't add was that Gemma's parents were only polite to him in company and his accident with the shed had only reinforced their opinion that he wasn't good enough for their daughter, an opinion he had never managed to change in their three year relationship. He lost himself in his introspection for a moment so didn't notice Darren looking expectantly at Mary, or he would have take steps to head off the coming conversation.

"Are you not sharing with us, Mary?" Darren asked when they had all stopped laughing.

Mary shook her head, "I've spent the last few years working during Thanksgiving so there's not much to tell," she told him hoping that would be the end of it.

"What about from when you were a child?" Darren pressed.

"No funny stories there, either," she said pointedly, making sure Darren got the hint.

"Okay..." he conceded, "...how about something you're grateful for now, then?"

Mary thought for a minute, "Hmmm...Something I'm grateful for? That I can work Thanksgiving?"

Darren smiled, thinking she was joking, but the smile quickly faded when he saw the look on the two Marshals' faces. He decided it was probably best if he didn't question her further.

"How about you, Marshall? What are you grateful for?" he asked instead.

Marshall looked thoughtful for a moment, then declared, "That you don't have a shed!"

Mary laughed, but Darren asked again, "Seriously, what do you want to give thanks for?"

Marshall gave the question a couple more moments thought, struggling to find an answer when his decision to break up with Gemma for the sake of his career was so much on his mind along with all the other things he had given up for his job.

That thought provided the inspiration he needed as he told Darren, "I'm thankful for my job. It's what's brought me here to have dinner with you, it's what's allowing me to share another family's Thanksgiving later and it's what allows me to spend all day with my best friend."

Mary noticed a note of melancholy in his voice and knew he was thinking of the sacrifices his work had asked of him. He may have told her he didn't regret it, but lately he had seemed sad to her and she was wondering if something had changed to make him regret the decisions he had made in his life or if he had always had this wistful air to him and she was only just noticing it. Either way his answer left her wondering what his full story was and how she could rid him of the sorrow he carried from the way his life had turned out.

Darren, on the other hand, seemed satisfied by Marshall's answer and didn't require prompting to complete the ritual, telling them, "I'm grateful for all the years I got to spend with Simon, both in this life and through my gift, after he passed on."

As Darren's list of the things he wanted to give thanks for grew and merged into more stories about Simon, Mary made eye contact with Marshall and they shared a private smile before Mary indicated the time and Marshall stood to clear the plates, surreptitiously trying to speed things along so they could still leave on time despite their late arrival.

xxx

"What the hell was that?" Mary practically spat as they walked toward the car.

"That was tofurkey," Marshall explained unnecessarily, instantly knowing what she was talking about.

"I got that, Dumbass! What I don't get is how you could eat it!"

"Yeah, it was pretty tasteless," Marshall acknowledged as he pulled the passenger door open and threw Mary the keys.

"Tasteless? I've eaten cardboard with more flavour! Seriously, man, how did you eat it?"

"I didn't." Marshall admitted, "You may want to empty your purse when we dump this." He indicated the bag of carefully packaged leftovers Darren had insisted they take with them.

Mary stared at him, incredulous.

"You hid your tofurkey in my bag?"

"Not just mine, yours too."

"Marshall!" Mary yelped.

The self satisfied grin she received only made her smile and his tactic for clearing his plate was one she couldn't fault, rather leaving her wishing she had come up with it first. And Marshall knew it.

Instead, she had to find a different angle of attack, "Didn't your sister ever teach you not to go into a woman's purse without her permission? You never know what she might keep in there!"

"Oh, please, I doubt you've got anything other than your phone, badge and gun in there," he scoffed, then amended, "And maybe a box of Advil."

Mary hid her smile at how well he knew her, covering it with more mock anger.

"Fine! But if my Glock is covered with fake turkey juice and misfires, you'll be the next one I aim it at!"

"I wrapped it all in a napkin," Marshall defended his actions, "And I hid yours too! I should get points for saving you from the evil almost-turkey."

"Just get the damn stuff out of my purse."

Marshall gestured for her to hand him the purse and she threw it in his general direction. He opened it, pulled out the half dozen soggy napkins he had used to wrap the inedible meal and stuffed them in the glove compartment for safe disposal later. He reached further into the glove compartment and retrieved his main weapon from where it had slid towards the back. He dropped it into his lap and it was soon joined by Mary's main piece.

Officially they were off duty today, but they both had their badges hidden discretely on their persons and knew where the closest weapon was at all times.

Marshall checked Mary's gun for her, removing the clip and checking the chamber in case there was any food particles attached that could cause problems. Mary paid as much attention to what he was doing as she did to the road, but didn't question his judgement when he reassembled her piece and dropped it back into her bag and added his to the purse.

"You honestly expect me to carry your weapon for you?" she asked when she realised what he had done.

Marshall shot her a look that highlighted the innuendo in her choice of words. He ignored the withering look she shot back.

"You're really going to complain about _that_ when I saved you from the tofurkey?"

"Hell, yeah! What do you think I am? Your personal pack mule?"

"I can't wear it on my hip when we're going to dinner as guests, it violates the ancient traditions of hospitality whereby, once the guest has accepted food and drink from the host, no violence may be done..."

"Can it, Smartass."

"Plus," Marshall continued regardless, "I don't want to be out-gunned by you if it comes to it."

Mary glanced over at him, "That your only piece?"

"I've got my backup," he told her.

"So it's acceptable to wear that to Darren's...?" Mary enquired, fascinated by how his mind worked.

"It's not on display. That's the difference. I assume you have...?"

"Yeah," she told him, hand moving to her thigh to check the presence of the gun strapped to her leg.

Marshall noticed the unconscious action and smiled. His mind was a mess today. If he wasn't wallowing about Thanksgivings past, he was drowning in memories of the other night. Mary's touch to check her piece had drawn his attention to her legs again which, in turn, had awakened his desire to run his hands up them and explore her body once again. He tried to wrench his thoughts away from Mary's legs and told himself that it wasn't okay to get turned on by knowing that was where Mary kept her backup and that she wouldn't hesitate to use it if he stepped out of line. As he felt his body begin to respond to his imagined disarming technique, he desperately tried to distract himself by focusing on the day ahead.

"You know, Carol will probably expect help in the kitchen," he mentioned.

"What are you saying? You're going to be too busy to entertain me?"

"No, I meant, you'll be expected to help."

"What? Why?"

"It's tradition. The women cook and the men watch the ball game."

"Well, to hell with tradition! I don't know the first thing about cooking!"

"I doubt you'll actually have to cook anything. Just keep Carol company, stir what she tells you to and stay out of her way when she's carrying hot things," Marshall advised.

"Can't I do that from another room?" she asked sullenly as she pulled into the parking lot of the Lerner's apartment.

"You'll be fine," Marshall reassured as he reached over and placed a hand on her thigh, unable to resist, he ran his thumb over her leg and made sure it came into contact with her weapon briefly.

Mary looked at him, surprised by his touch and even more surprised by the desire in his eyes. She felt his confidence in her and his attraction to her and took courage from both, letting it replace the dread and self doubt she had acquired regarding the upcoming dinner. Darren she could cope with, she just told herself that it was only dinner with a witness; something she had done a hundred times. The Lerner's were a whole different matter. This was a proper, traditional family Thanksgiving; something she'd only experienced through the medium of TV for the last twenty-or-so years.

As Marshall removed his hand, she stole one last look at him, grateful she would have her partner backing her up in this unfamiliar situation, as they got out the car and headed into the apartment complex for their second Thanksgiving of the day.


	41. The Neverending Thursday Part II

**AN: **I hope Grammar Maven is feeling better, her ideas are scattered throughout this chapter, as are those of Kathiann, Yankee306 and Nemain13.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 41 – The Never-ending Thursday (Part II)**

They reached the Lerner's apartment only 20 minutes late and rang the doorbell. They could hear shouting from the other side of the door. They shared a look. Marshall conveying his question with a raised eyebrow – _problem?_, Mary silently supplying an answer with a shrug – _maybe. _They listened a second longer and Mary shook her head at him, indicting the tone of the shouting seemed normal to her.

Before she could put the thought into words, Carol opened the door looking flustered.

"Mary, Marshall," she greeted, "Come in."

"Everything alright?" Mary asked as she stepped through the doorway.

"Yeah, fine." She noticed Marshall's sceptical look, "It's just, you know, Thanksgiving. Contrary to popular belief, you don't need out of town relatives to cause problems."

She looked over her shoulder pointedly, to where her husband, Dan, sat.

"You don't have to tell me that," Mary assured with a eye roll.

Carol smiled, wryly, "Still, I hope you're hungry. There's a ton of food!"

Mary and Marshall assured her they were. After the disastrous dinner at Darren's they didn't even have to lie. The three of them moved further into the apartment and Carol disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Dan to organise drinks for their guests.

"So, how are things, Dan?" Mary asked as she took the glass from him.

"Okay, it's a weird time of year to be looking for work. It seems to be mostly seasonal stuff at the moment, so I've not had much luck."

"Well, I can make a few calls if you'd like. I have a few contacts. What sort of thing are you looking for?"

"Anything, really. Office, sales, IT, it doesn't matter. I learned four years ago that I can't be fussy, something Carol keeps reminding me."

"Well, I can't promise anything and I'll have to wait until Monday, but I'll see what I can do," Mary assured him.

Suddenly there was a crash from the kitchen and a muffled curse that had both marshals alert.

"You alright, Sweetheart?" Dan called.

"Fine, thank you," came the terse response.

Mary relaxed but was perplexed when Marshall seemed to develop a nervous tick. She peered at him, wondering what was making him so jumpy when the conversation from the car reared it's ugly head and she realised that Marshall was trying to tell her to go help Carol. She would have killed him where he stood if looks could actually kill, but as it was he just stood there and watched as she stalked reluctantly into the kitchen.

Marshall followed her path, eyes darting to her legs as her skirt flowed round them. He tore his attention away and back to Dan.

"So, did I detect a hint of recrimination in Carol's tone?" Marshall enquired.

Dan sighed and gestured for Marshall to join him on the couch.

"I may have implied I thought this dinner was pointless..."

"Implied?"

"I said I was worried about how much money she was spending on dinner this year. I said that I thought it could be better spent and we didn't know how long it was going to be before I got a job so it was silly to waste so much time and money on just one meal."

Marshall inhaled sharply, "You, my friend, are in serious trouble."

"Don't I know it..."

xxx

"Girls, stop annoying Inspector Miller," Carol called into the living room.

She returned to the kitchen shaking her head.

"Have you looked in there?" she asked Mary.

"No," Mary replied and poked her head out the room to see what her idiot partner was up to.

He was sat on the floor with the two girls, surrounded by coloured construction paper, glue and crayons. On his head was a home-made headband with three paper feathers attached to it. Each of the feathers were designed, cut and coloured with different levels of skill. Even from across the room Mary could identify the maker of each feather.

She turned back into the kitchen, a look of resigned patience on her face which made Carol laugh.

"He does this often then?" Carol enquired.

"More often than you'd think was suitable for a US Marshal," Mary sighed, only half joking.

"He's a natural with kids. Does he have some of his own?" Carol asked.

"No," Mary said as she returned to stirring the red sticky mess assigned to her.

"Shame, he'd make a great Dad."

"He would," Mary admitted, stealing a glance out the door to where her partner sat, now adorned with five feathers while the youngest, Madison, tried to attach the sixth to the band rather than his hair.

"What, has he just never met the right woman?" Carol probed further.

"I think he did, but the job got in the way," Mary said.

"How so?"

"We're not allowed to tell people, even our families what we do, for your protection. It makes it hard to build trust when you can't tell your partner where you've been for the last three days." Mary borrowed an example from her own life rather than sharing too many details of Marshall's with her witness. Carol didn't need to know Marshall had actually chosen WITSEC over Gemma.

"Ah. Secrets and money," Carol sighed. "The two most common causes of failed relationships. When I found out what Dan was doing with the company books, I think I was more upset that he had hidden it from me than I was about the actual embezzlement. We'd worked so hard to build that practise up from the ground and there he was...Anyway, in a strange way, when I started cooking the books with him it brought us closer together for a while. Until we got caught, that is."

The two women lapsed into silence for a moment, each considering the other's predicament.

"Still, that must be tough. I never considered this whole arrangement from your point of view before," Carol said. "I suppose at first, I was too concerned about getting my life back together and taking care of the kids to think about what it must be like for you guys. And the Marshals in Rhode Island barely seemed human, so it never occurred to me."

"That's understandable, we're here to protect you and help you rebuild your life. You're not supposed to worry about us," Mary told her.

"Still, knowing the lengths you guys go to in order to look after us, it makes me feel bad that all day I've been struggling to think of anything to be thankful for when the answer is right in front of me."

Mary was uncomfortable with the implied praise. "We do it because we love the work, so there's no need to feel bad for us."

"You say that, but don't you both have families you'd rather be spending Thanksgiving with?"

"Not really," Mary admitted.

"Not even a boyfriend to go home to? I saw you buy that lingerie yesterday, you must have had someone in mind when you chose it."

"No boyfriend," Mary confided, "We broke up last week. The lingerie was just for me," she said, doing her best to convince herself of that and not think of Marshall as she spoke.

"Oh, please, Honey. You and I both know that's crap. You don't buy that sort of underwear unless you intend for someone to see it."

Mary's eyes flicked, unbidden, to Marshall's general position in the next room. Fortunately she had her back to Carol so the involuntary action went unnoticed.

"You hoping for some hot, make up sex with your boyfriend?" Carol continued.

"Unlikely. He left the country yesterday."

"When he comes back, then?"

"He's not coming back," Mary said with finality.

"What did you fight over?" Carol asked intrigued as to what would cause him to leave for good.

"Everything. My job. Marshall. Wedding flowers. Money. His job."

"Wedding flowers? You were engaged to him?"

Mary could only nod.

"The lack of trust was a problem for you, too?"

"I tried to explain to him that a lot of what I do is classified and I couldn't talk about it, but he didn't get it. He kept asking questions and even asked if someone else could do the travelling part."

"And he was suspicious of how much time you spend with Marshall?"

"How did you know?" Mary asked sarcastically.

"Men are like that. It's when they stop getting jealous you have to worry," Carol told her.

Carol grabbed one of the dishes and waltzed out the room with it, leaving Mary wondering what her point had been or if she had even had one.

Carol came back into the kitchen, minus the dish and said, "He's showing them how to make an origami turkey, now."

Mary muttered under her breath, "Jesus, Marshall," while Carol stood in the doorway watching him.

"And he's really not spoken for?" Carol checked, surprised he hadn't been snapped up.

Mary joined her in the doorway, "He's only fun in small doses. Try spending a week with him, then ask why he's still single," she said jokingly.

"Really? Is he an eternal bachelor, complete with irritating habits that no woman can curb?" Carol asked, misunderstanding Mary's sense of humour.

"I don't know," Mary admitted, not being able to think of a character flaw that would drive a woman away, "I've never seen him get past the fourth or fifth date with a woman although he was in a relationship before I knew him. So he can't be completely undomesticated."

"What happened?"

"Like I said; the job. Sounded like they were talking about marriage too."

"Is the job worth it?" Carol asked, puzzled at the dedication of the two Inspectors.

"Yes," Mary replied without hesitation.

"What would Marshall say?"

Mary opened her mouth to say yes then thought about the conversation they'd had with Amy yesterday.

"I don't know. He loves his job, but I know he'd like a family too and sometimes it seems like the two don't go together."

"Has he told you that?"

"No, but he did say he'd probably be married with kids by now if he'd..." Mary stopped, the conversation was veering dangerously into specifics and Mary knew Marshall wouldn't be happy if she shared his secrets with a witness, any more than she'd be happy if he went round telling people about her dad.

"You sound troubled by that prospect," Carol noted causally.

Mary shrugged, "If he was married, he wouldn't be my partner."

She turned to see Carol watching her.

"It's selfish, I know. But some days he's the only thing that gets me through the day."

"You should tell him that," Carol said.

"He knows," Mary said dismissively.

"Yeah, but it's always good to hear and if you can't tell him you're grateful for his presence today, when can you?"

Mary tilted her head to one side as she considered Carol's words.

"How did you get so insightful?" she asked.

"I was a psychiatrist before I entered the program," Carol told her, surprised she didn't know.

"You mean to tell me, you've been shrinking my head all this time?" Mary asked, outraged.

"It's a hobby," Carol grinned, "Shall we lay the table?"

xxx

Carol called everyone to the table.

The two girls hurried over, dragging Marshall with them. His headdress actually resembled something a Native American might wear if they were desperate and only had some paper and a six year old child on hand.

The pilgrim hats that Marshall had fashioned for the two girls were considerably better designed and the origami turkey now adorned the table as the centrepiece. The re-enactment of the first Thanksgiving had been practised to within an inch of it's life, ready to be performed after dinner. Although the two girls were still intently discussing changes to the plot as they took their seats.

Dan had poured everyone more drinks and was about to start carving the turkey when he saw a rather stressed Carol emerge from the kitchen with the dressing.

"Did you put enough sage in that, this year?" he asked, hoping to start their traditional, light-hearted argument over the correct ratio of sage to onion in the dressing.

Unfortunately Carol was in no mood to take his criticism, no matter how jokingly he had meant it. She slammed the dish down on the table and glared at him before stalking back into the kitchen to retrieve the next, lovingly prepared dish. Dan exchanged a sheepish look with Marshall which Mary caught.

"What was all that about?" she asked, not having been filled in on Dan's hurtful comments about dinner.

"Nothing," Marshall quickly assured her as she took her seat.

"What's nothing?" Carol asked as she returned with the last dish.

"These two," Mary pointed, "They're up to something. That look meant something."

"It was probably my husband rolling his eyes at my _unnecessary_ display of anger," Carol snapped, heavy on the sarcasm.

Dan wisely stayed quiet and focused on slicing the turkey.

"It doesn't occur to him that I just wanted one day to be normal, no matter how much it _costs_," Carol practically spat. "It doesn't occur to him that his little snarky comments he makes day in and day out are actually hurtful. That I had a life of my own in Providence that I had to give up. Again! He seems to think that just because I don't work, I spend all day in the house, looking at four walls so I should be _grateful_ for the change!"

"Carol," Mary tried to cut in, but Carol was on a roll.

"None of that occurs to him! Just like it didn't occur to him that stealing the practice's money and bribing Government officials was wrong and would get us in trouble!"

"Now, hang on!" Dan yelled, "I wasn't the only one involved!"

"No!" Carol hissed, "It's not enough to...but you had to bring us down with you!"

"Don't you dare," Dan growled, advancing on Carol with the carving knife, forgotten, in his hand prompting Marshall to move between husband and wife while Mary tried to urge Carol to step away.

Dan continued oblivious to the two marshals, "Don't you dare lay all this on me! You were the one who said we should bribe Lawson. You even set it up! If it hadn't been for you and your need to organise everything, to _write everything down_, we would never have got caught!"

"Screw you, Daniel!" Carol said quite calmly before upending the turkey plate.

Everyone watched, helpless, as the mostly carved turkey flew through the air and landed with a wet thump on the floor.

"That's what you can do with your _frivolous_ meal! Next year you can cook your own." Carol left the room at a sedate pace but Mary could see her shoulders shaking in barely suppressed rage.

Mary looked over at Marshall, standing with a restraining hand on Dan while they both stared longingly at the mess of turkey on the floor. The steam rose enticingly from it. Dan's shoes and pants were splattered with turkey from where it had landed partly on his foot. The slices were scattered across the carpet and the plate had rolled under the table.

Marshall looked up first and caught Mary's eye, she could almost see the words 'eight second rule' floating in the air above his head. She shook her head and he looked disappointed for a brief moment before he flicked his attention to the two girls sat quietly at the table, too stunned by their mom's actions to do more than gape. He indicated he'd stay with the girls and Dan leaving Mary to deal with the irate Carol.

xxx

Mary pushed open the door to Carol's room slowly and peered in. She was relieved to see her tactic of waiting for Carol to calm down had paid off as she seemed remarkably calmer. She was slumped in the corner chair staring out the window. The sound of two people having loud, obnoxious sex in the apartment above drifted down through the floorboards.

"Well, it sounds like someone's having fun," Mary said jerking her thumb toward the ceiling.

"Yeah, it's hard to stay mad when you know that someone's so close to climax mere feet away."

Mary tilted her head to one side and listened to the noises from upstairs, "Nah, she'd faking," she announced after careful consideration.

Carol laughed, "You're probably right, no sex is _that_ good."

Mary resisted the temptation to think about either Raph or Marshall and changed the subject.

"So, what was all that about?" she asked.

"I don't know. I just let his comment about the dressing get to me."

"Well, you've had a stressful month..."

"No. It's not that." Carol attempted to explain, "Every year he criticises my dressing, or teases me when I leave something in the oven. And I know he's only joking, but every year, there's this voice in the back of my head saying, 'Well, why don't you cook, if you're so perfect?' Every year he makes some comment or another, yet he's never once offered to help. Never offered to check the oven to see if I've missed anything, never even steps foot in the kitchen. I just let it get to me today, that's all."

"That's understandable," Mary said, completely siding with Carol.

Carol continued venting, "It's like there's this unwritten rule. No. It's more like a God given right for men to sit on their asses all day and not lift a finger. And their excuse? 'Sorry, Dear, but the football's on!' Does it not occur to them that maybe we'd want to watch the football? Dan doesn't even like football all year long, yet come Thanksgiving he's the world's biggest fan. I bet he doesn't even know who's playing!"

Mary had been getting more angry on Carol's behalf as she had been listening.

"Screw it! Screw them!" Mary announced, "Let's make them do the cleaning up, while we watch the match."

Carol stared at her a moment, unused to having someone take her side and be so proactive about it. Her friends in Providence would have listened and commiserated with her, each having husbands of their own, but none of them would have suggested taking action.

"Yeah, screw them," Carol said, finally, surprising herself with her tone and her language when she was so used to watching it around the kids.

"But what about dinner?" Carol asked, wavering slightly.

"If they want food, they can get it themselves," Mary told her.

For some reason, Mary had been including Marshall in her definition of 'men to be mad at' although she was fairly certain he would never force her into the kitchen just for the sake of tradition. But she was feeling militant so he got grouped in with Dan and Raph, through no fault of his own.

She was at the door, ready to tell the men the new plan when she heard the muffled thud of something hitting the door and a scream cut abruptly short.

She motioned for Carol to stay still.

Her hand was on the door handle and she gingerly pushed the door open a crack, just wide enough to see a glob of white sticking to the other side of the door and hear a shriek of laughter. She opened the door some more and confirmed the white glob was in fact mashed potato just in time to catch a glimpse of another blob of white flying through the air in her direction. She slammed the door shut and leant her back on it, wishing she had her purse so she would have a suitable weapon before remembering Marshall had already removed the tofurkey from it.

"What's going on?" Carol whispered.

"I think they're having a food fight."

"What?" Carol yelped, standing to give her family a piece of her mind.

Mary stopped her from going out the door, saying, "It's my job to protect you, even if it's from flying food. Get down and follow me."

Carol saw the childish grin the supposedly mature woman flashed her and felt her inner child begging to come out and play.

She ducked down behind Mary as the crouching marshal cracked open the door and scooped up the potato that had slid to the floor. Suitably armed, she pulled the door open and made a dash for behind the couch. Once in a position to provide cover fire, she signalled for Carol to join her.

At the other end of the room, the two grown men and the girls were too engrossed in hiding behind the dining chairs to see the two women behind the sofa.

Dan realised the danger too late, as a hand full of mashed potato hit him on the back of the head. Marshall quickly regrouped, organising the girls and Dan so he could protect them from the new danger.

Mary grinned in triumph behind the couch. She'd only had one shot but it was a kill shot and had brought Carol time to get into the kitchen and locate some ammunition. And Marshall was going to be so pissed that she had 'killed' his witness. A brief volley of rolls from the direction of the kitchen proved that Carol had made the journey safely and had, once again, managed to forget something in the oven.

Mary used the covering fire to run to the table, grab what she could and whisper a coded message to the two girls who were cowering behind Marshall's lanky frame. They might have been cowering or they might had been giggling, Mary wasn't sure, as she assumed her new position next to the sideboard.

Mary watched as the girls gathered handfuls of sweet potato and the cranberry sauce Mary herself had carefully stirred under Carol's tutelage and counted to three. Mary could only hope that Carol would quickly realise what was going on as her kids shifted allegiance from the boys' to the girls' team and made their all out attack with supporting fire from Mary.

xxx

Mary elbowed Marshall out the way of the mirror.

They were attempting to get cleaned up after the food fight had been declared for the girls' team. The boys had been complaining about underhand tactics, about being out numbered and the fact that, as the victors, the girls had claimed the prize of not having to clean up the mess they had made.

Marshall had scooped most the cranberry out of his hair, but the sauce had left a sticky mess and it had trickled down his neck a little. Mary was resisting the temptation to lick it off and rationalising her desire to do so as only wanting to taste the sauce she had had a hand in making. Pushing in in-front of him had helped her control herself a little, she no longer had to see the tempting trace it made down the back of his neck, but now he was brushing up against her as he tried to regain his position near the sink.

Marshall picked a slice of turkey off his shoulder and looked at it longingly.

"Do you think that would be okay to eat?" he asked.

"You that hungry?"

"Not really," he put the slice down, "I just feel kinda cheated. Two Thanksgiving dinners and I still haven't had any turkey."

"Well, there's always Brandi's dinner," Mary told him as she ran her hands through her hair trying to remove bits of dressing.

"What's the likelihood that that will be edible?"

"With my family? I wouldn't be surprised if Brandi had brought a haddock by mistake. This_ is_ the girl that thought broccoli and cauliflower were the same thing," she told him.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Marshall admitted as he started picking bits of food out of Mary's hair.

"I'm blaming this on you, by the way," Mary said as she watched his hands running through her hair in the mirror.

"Me? It's your fault!"

"How is it my fault?"

"You were the one that got the girls to switch sides, you were the one that got the girls organised."

"You started it!" she accused.

"Actually Madison started it."

"Which one is Madison?"

"The younger one."

"But she's, what, six? She seems so sweet, she'd never start something like that." Mary couldn't imagine the cute little girl that had made Marshall a pink and purple feather for his headdress instigating a riot.

"Yeah, well apparently monkey see, monkey do."

"What?"

"She thought Carol throwing the turkey on the floor looked like fun so she joined in," Marshall told her, indicating he had got most of the mess out of her hair for her.

"So, it's Carol's fault..." she reasoned.

"Yeah, although that does beg the question; what the hell did you say to her in the kitchen?"

"Nothing, I was too busy concentrating on stirring and staying out the way, like you told me to."

She flashed him a grin and left the bathroom just as Carol was calling her.

"Hey, Mary, the game's starting. You still have time to watch it with me, right?"

"Sure," she said taking her place on the sofa, ignoring the roll on the floor in front of her, leaving it for the men to clear up.

As she listened to Carol explain the rules of the game to Carly and Madison, she considered the day she'd had and began to feel foolish for being so worried about spending Thanksgiving with the Lerners.

As the game neared half-time and the cleaning was finished, Dan and Marshall came to join them. Dan scooped Madison up to sit on his lap while Marshall sat on the floor at Mary's feet, leaning back on the sofa with his long legs stretched out before him.

Mary looked around the room, fixing the image in her mind; this was a proper, family Thanksgiving and she'd been part of it. The small smile that crept across her face at that thought stayed there until it was time for her and Marshall to say their goodbyes.

xxx

As they had been leaving the Lerner's, Carol had pulled Mary aside and thanked her for the conversation they had had, saying she had found it helpful. Mary had puzzled over this as she and Marshall made their way down the stairs. She didn't recall saying anything overly helpful, but Carol seemed to imply she had taken a lot of support from that one conversation. Mary struggled to recall what they had discussed and what she had said. Only one topic really stuck out in her mind. As they reached the car Mary decided to do something about it.

"Hey, Marshall," Mary called over the roof of the car, causing him to stop and look up at her, "I know your life hasn't turned out the way you wanted it to," she told him sincerely, "but _I'm_ glad it didn't. That's what I'm grateful for. And not just today, but every day."

Marshall stared at her, amazed at her words and the honesty with which she said them, so unlike Mary. He wasn't amazed that it was her that broke eye contact, looking around embarrassed by her admission. She got in the car and closed the door, signalling the end of the conversation. Marshall knew this would never be mentioned again, like his speech at her engagement party, her need to have his word not to leave or Raph's broken promise.

He got into the car to find her waiting patiently for him, knowing he would need a moment to absorb what she had just told him and for once willing to let him move at his pace rather than hers.

"So, Pollyanna, any tips on how to survive your family dinner?"

"Pollyanna?" she queried.

He shrugged, "You found something in my mess of a life to be glad about. It fit."

He leant back and waited for the mocking to commence, certain that she wouldn't be able to resist making fun of him for referencing a Disney movie or maybe just berating him for his taste in movies in general.

She said nothing.

He glanced over at her and found her gazing into the middle distance. Before he could ask if she was okay, she spoke.

"My Dad used to read that book to me," she said. "We would come up with reasons to be glad his horse hadn't won as we walked home from the OTB. Sometimes we would invent the most ridiculous reason imaginable, but whatever we came up with, that's what he'd tell Jinx."

"_You_ played the glad game?" Marshall couldn't contain his astonishment.

"Yeah, until he left. I never found anything to...I stopped playing after that," she told him.

Marshall sat in silence, wishing he could think of a reason to be glad her dad had left her but came up blank. If she hadn't thought of anything in almost thirty years, it wasn't unreasonable to assume he wouldn't be able to come up with something in thirty seconds.

Instead he told her, "It's Mom and Ellen's favourite movie. We would watch it every Thanksgiving. Dad and I pretended to hate it and would complain whenever it was on, but we always secretly enjoyed it." He leant toward her slightly and added conspiratorially, "Of course, if you ask Ellen, she'll tell you her favourite movie is All The President's Men, but it's not."

Mary smiled slightly, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. She looked at Marshall, noting the return of the sadness to his smile as he remembered his childhood.

"Perhaps you could watch it at Christmas," Mary suggested, realising she still hadn't told him about the phone call she had received from Ellen and the promise she had made her.

"It wouldn't be the same," he told her.

"Why not?"

"It'll always be a Thanksgiving movie for me, and it's not the same when you watch it by yourself."

"So? We'll watch it together," she told him, not mentioning her version of 'we' included his parents and sister.

He smiled at her and changed the subject, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

"We should get moving, we're going to be late for dinner," he said, grinning as he added, "again."


	42. The Neverending Thursday Part III

**AN:** Thanks to Grammar Maven for prodding me to write something and her ideas/skills as a beta.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 42 – The Never-ending Thursday (Part III)**

Mary and Marshall sat in Marshall's car looking at Mary's house in apprehension. They had been sitting there in silence for several minutes, neither wanting to be the first to get out and face the chaos that they knew would be a major component of the upcoming dinner.

"You know, Vegas is only 600 miles away," Mary said out of the blue. "If we left now we could be there by morning."

Marshall glanced over at her before returning to glower at the house.

"Where would that get us?" he asked, unsure what Mary was getting at.

"Vegas."

"Yeah, but why?"

"It's not here. And it's got to be more fun than this," Mary explained indicating the house.

"Tempting," Marshall admitted.

"But not tempting enough?"

"We'd still need a reason why we missed dinner when we got back," Marshall pointed out.

Mary thought for a moment, looking for a suitable excuse, "We could get married, tell them we couldn't deny our love any more and didn't want to wait a second longer than necessary."

Marshall shifted in his seat, hiding the inevitable flinch her words caused him. Did the woman have no idea what she did to him? Or did she know every thing and was deliberately pushing his buttons?

His answer, when it came, was as honest as he could make it without just starting the engine and racing towards I-40.

"Mare, as much as I'd love to marry you, I'm hungry. And I've been clinging to the small hope that whatever Brandi has prepared is edible since we were denied dinner at the Lerners'. Ask me again tomorrow."

"So you're saying you'd rather eat than marry me," Mary teased, expecting him to come back with a comment along the lines of 'I'd rather …. than marry you,' and looking forward to seeing what insult his twisty mind came up with so his actual response was something of a disappointment.

"No, I'm saying I'd rather not embark on an eight hour drive when I haven't eaten since this morning and risk passing out at the wheel and killing us both," Marshall hedged, his self-control being tested to its utmost.

"Spoilsport." Mary said, slapping him gently, "You suck all the fun out of life."

"At least we'd still have lives for me to suck the fun out of," Marshall said with forced humour. "Plus, I'd like to think that when you promise to spend the rest of your life with me, that life will last more than a few hours."

"Like I'd ever promise that," Mary replied sarcastically as she finally got out the car.

"Yeah..." Marshall breathed as he reached for the door handle.

xxx

"You're late!" Brandi declared as soon as they walked through the door.

"Yeah, we've been running late all day," Marshall commented as he threw his keys on the side next to Mary's bag and took his jacket off.

"What the hell happened to you two?" Jinx asked as she saw the stains on Marshall's shirt and the mess that was Mary's hair.

"We got held up at our friend's," Mary explained, sticking to their cover story of having lunch with friends, grateful the standard explanation of how they knew people worked both ways.

"No, I meant; what the hell happened to your clothes? Is that cranberry?" Jinx asked, standing close to Marshall to examine his collar.

"Yeah, we got into a fight," Marshall explained distractedly while backing away from Mary's mother and looking around the kitchen for signs of how long dinner was going to be.

"Yeah, Marshall got beaten up by two little girls," Mary couldn't resist teasing.

"They had some help," Marshall said with a pointed look at Mary.

Marshall peered over Brandi's shoulder as she opened the oven door and checked on the contents. He caught a glimpse of the turkey, enough to confirm it had once been alive and not made out of soya or living in the ocean, as was Mary's concern. He was surprised, firstly, that there was nothing noticeably wrong with it then it dawned on him that Brandi was only just lighting the oven.

He started searching the kitchen for other indicators as to dinner's readiness as Mary asked, "Do we have time for a shower before dinner?"

"Sure," Brandi said, "I didn't expect you to be on time, so I waited for you to get here before I started..."

"Great." Mary cut Brandi off just as Marshall was kissing goodbye to the idea of eating anytime soon.

Mary grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her room. Marshall resisted until he realised where they were headed. Once Mary realised he was following willingly she dropped his arm and started undoing her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders as she crossed the threshold to her room.

Marshall followed her example, making short work of the buttons on his shirt. He may not get to eat any time tonight but at least he wouldn't be starved of something to do. He was starting to unbutton his pants when Mary turned to face him.

"Jesus, Marshall! What the hell are you doing?"

"What? I though you wanted to..." he gestured between them.

"Yeah, I see that," Mary said with a half smile, "I was just planning on taking a shower and washing the stuffing out of my hair."

"Oh." Marshall looked sheepish and did his pants up, "Why did you drag me in here, then?"

"I thought you could see if I have a spare set of clothes in here for you," she said, hoping Raph had left behind something that Marshall could change into.

"Okay," Marshall assented, "So, I'll just..." he gestured to the chest of drawers.

"Yeah."

Mary watched as he opened the top drawer and started rummaging through her clothes. She was surprised at his apparent readiness to jump into bed with her. She had thought that his attempted seduction of her the other night had been mostly due to the alcohol making him horny and willing to screw anything. Surprisingly, she had found herself willing to succumb to Marshall's drunken temptation and strangely disappointed when he'd temporarily stopped. Afterwards she had told herself that her desire was understandable after the week she'd had. Raph up and leaving had come as a shock to her and she'd spent the week reliving any and every conversation she'd had with him trying to find out where she had gone wrong. After a week of blaming herself and avoiding her family, who also blamed her, she had taken comfort where and when it was offered.

In the back of her mind was the thought that she had initiated sex with Marshall on two occasions with only a fifty percent success rate and, even when he had been the one to get the ball rolling, he had still needed encouragement. It hadn't escaped her attention that he was obviously willing to follow her lead when he was in the mood, but not willing to sleep with her just to satisfy her desire. She told herself that was a good reason to assume he wasn't interested in her, per se, but rather just wanting sex where he could get it.

But now she had to consider that he was actually attracted to her. His badly concealed disappointment at her rebuff might just have been general disappointment at not getting laid, but his flirty little comments as they were shopping yesterday and the way he had stared at her legs today when he thought no one was watching certainly seemed to indicate otherwise. She couldn't be sure. She normally knew how to recognise when a guy wanted to jump her and, depending on her mood, several ways to turn him down or turn him on. And Marshall had most definitely wanted to jump her. But did he just want a quick romp in the sack or something more? And if he wanted more, what did she do about it? Marshall's mixed signals were leaving her wishing for Brandi's or even her Mom's sense when it came to these things. They always knew when a guy was interested in them and what to do about it.

As she watched him open another drawer, she considered warning him to stay away from her underwear, but decided it was pointless as he'd only ignore her warning. Plus, he'd seen her latest additions anyway, so she just grabbed a change of clothes and headed into the bathroom.

xxx

Marshall looked at himself in the mirror as he zipped up the blue fleece.

The fleece had belonged to Raphael. The Isotopes logo on the left breast would have told him that even if the top hadn't smelt of the other man. He'd found it down the side of the bed and had stared at it for a long time while Mary was in the shower, trying to work out how it had come to be there. Had it fallen off the bed as Raph was packing? Had it been thrown in a fit of pique? Had Mary slid it off his shoulders and allowed it to fall where it would, forgotten, while she made love to Raph? Had Mary stolen it, worn it and hidden it to ensure future access? Had she clung to it after Raph had left, revelling in the scent of the man she had agreed to marry?

The longer Marshall had stood there contemplating the history of the top the more crazy it made him. Finally, his reverie had been broken by the sound of Mary exiting the shower and he'd hastened to find some pants.

The sweat pants he'd located were unisex enough that he'd thought they were Mary's. He was suitably comfortable with his sexuality not to mind wearing her pants so had taken them into the bathroom with Raph's fleece. Part of him had been amused, playing around with the idea of Mary normally being the one to wear the pants in their partnership and the symbolism of him being allowed to wear them for a change. His humour had vanished once he had put them on and it dawned on him that they fit. He'd been expecting them to be several inches too short, leading to him being mocked, but the length was fine leaving him with the bitter realisation that they too had belonged to Raphael.

So here he was, standing in Mary's bathroom, wearing Mary's boyfriend's clothes and feeling like an impostor.

What was he doing?

xxx

Mary turned her head as she heard someone enter the room.

She was laying on her bed, feet dangling over the edge, bare legs brushing against the side of the bed. For some reason, when she had grabbed her clean clothes she had gone to some trouble to locate her other skirt from the back of the closet. She'd been in two minds as to whether to slip into one of her new purchases but had decided against it, she was uncomfortable enough in a skirt without adding lingerie into the mix.

She'd considered joining Brandi and Jinx in the kitchen while Marshall showered, but after she had opened her bedroom door and heard a rather heated discussion regarding how often a turkey should be basted she had chosen to sit out that particular argument and wait for Marshall in her room. He'd been in her bathroom for a while and Mary had let her mind drift as she waited, her thoughts occasionally returning to puzzle over why she was still wearing a skirt when she'd had the perfect opportunity to change into pants. As she was turning over the image of Marshall staring at her legs in her mind and contemplating her desire to make him look at her like that again, he opened the bathroom door.

"Is it wrong for me to be wondering if we could get a pizza delivered?" Mary asked as Marshall wandered into the room and took a seat on the other side of the bed, clad in only his boxers.

She tried not to stare at his body as he retrieved his socks and started putting them on.

"There is a certain irony to the fact that, despite attending our third Thanksgiving dinner, we are hungry," he said as he bent to put his other sock on. "It is, perhaps, a more genuine representation of the first Thanksgiving that we, the pilgrims, go hungry while those around us feast. Some have speculated that the original pilgrims were so hungry that they resorted to cannibalism to alleviate their hunger."

"Well as long as you don't try and eat me," she teased as his stomach growled.

Marshall smirked, his thoughts all too evident on his face, none of them concerning food.

"Jesus, Marshall! What is up with you today? You've been like a horny schoolboy all day!"

"Is it my fault I like you in a skirt? I'm a leg man, I can't help it."

"You've seen me in a skirt before and managed to keep your hormones in check."

"Yes, but before I could only imagine what was underneath. Now, I _know_." He grinned at her with a leer.

He noted her small, half smile and the way her eyes slid across his chest. He stretched out on the bed next to her and slid a hand up her leg, letting it rest just above her knee, not wanting to push her too far, too fast.

"You know I've got a loaded gun under there too, right?" she lied, knowing her piece was safely tucked into her bedside table drawer.

"Only adds to the appeal," he murmured into her ear as he shifted to kiss her.

Mary was just beginning to enjoy herself when her bedroom door flew open.

"Mary, do you..." Jinx began, but stopped abruptly as the scene before her registered.

Marshall stopped and rolled onto his back, mood thoroughly spoiled as Mary snapped, "What the hell do you want, Mom?"

"Umm...N-nothing," she answered as she backed out of the room.

Mary propped herself up on her elbows as she watched Jinx beat a hasty retreat, then glanced over at Marshall who had his hands covering his face while his shoulders were shaking uncontrollably.

Mary reached over to pull one of his hands away from his face, "Marshall?"

He didn't answer, but Mary was relieved to see it was because he was laughing too hard. She turned onto her side and watched as he dissolved into a fit of giggles and curled into a ball. As he calmed, wiping the tears from his eyes, she reached over to stoke his shoulder and arm, pleased to see him relaxed and happy for the first time in what felt like days.

He took a deep breath to calm himself further and allowed himself to enjoy Mary's touch while still grinning widely.

"Care to share what is so amusing?" Mary asked.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've been walked in on by a parent?" he asked through his resurgent laughter.

"Hmmm..." Mary pretended to think, "Katinka Magnusdottir?"

"Close, Sally Johnson, sophomore year, college."

Mary raised an eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue while she filed that piece of information away in her mind.

"I'm a grown man, almost 40," he paused to glare at Mary as she scoffed, "..ish. Yet, here I am getting caught making out like a teenager." Marshall rolled back onto his back, "This is not how I planned for today to go."

"Really? How had you planned it?" she asked just as Marshall's stomach emitted a loud grumble.

"Well, first off, I was banking on having had something to eat by now," he said as he stretched his arms above his head and laced his fingers together behind his head.

Mary mirrored his position.

"Trust us to go to three Thanksgiving dinners and come away hungry," Marshall muttered as he got more comfortable.

"To be fair, my family's dinner we could have predicted would go wrong," she pointed out.

"Yet, you didn't make any provisions," he teased, half hoping she had some food stockpiled in her room.

"I thought we'd be grateful for the reprieve after two dinners," she excused.

"Well, if we'd eaten anything at either of the other dinners, then yes."

"Hey, I couldn't have predicted that!"

"True," Marshall acceded, "And, you never know, it may be edible. The more pertinent question is whether we'll die of hunger before it's ready."

"Do you think we should go and help?" Mary asked reluctantly.

"It may speed things along," Marshall admitted as he reached for his turkey stained shirt.

Mary noticed and asked, "Didn't you find anything clean to wear?"

"I can't wear Raphael's clothes, Mare," he told her, not really expecting her to understand.

"Why the hell not? I know he's shorter than you but surely not that much...?"

"He's not shorter than me."

"Isn't he? Huh. I always think of you as being taller. What's up with that?"

"Ah," Marshall sighed as he started to button his shirt, "I believe the question you are asking is one of perception. Why, when a person attaches a preconceived idea to an object, do they persist in seeing that idea or concept whether it is there or not? And how does that relate to Descartes theory of passive perception? Although if you ask the question from a quantum mechanical view point then you have to allow for the possibility that the act of observation changes the object being viewed, and so your original observation that I am taller than Raphael may have actually caused me to become taller than him."

Mary gaped, open mouthed, as Marshall finished with a self satisfied smile.

"Wow," she finally said.

"Yeah, freaky isn't it?"

"No. I meant, 'Wow, you're so full of crap!'"

Marshall grinned and reached for his pants, holding them up and wondering if he should at least attempt to wipe them clean before putting them on.

"So did you find something to wear? I know Raph must have left something."

"Yeah, I found something," he said as he headed back into the bathroom, pants in hand, to try to remove the worst stains.

"So? Just put that on. Why are you bothering with that?" she asked, indicating his pants as she leant in the doorway to the bathroom.

"I can't just wear Raph's clothes, Mary."

"Why? He's doesn't have cooties or anything."

"Did you know in Britain they use the term 'lurgi' rather than cooties?"

"Why are you avoiding my question? Why don't you want to wear Raph's clothes?"

Marshall stared at her, noting her calculating expression that was swiftly giving way to anger. He considered answering her, but found he was unable to express his discomfort at dressing in another man's clothes, in Raph's clothes, with any coherence when all he could hear was the phrase 'wolf in sheep's clothing' echoing in his head.

"Fine!" He agreed, backing down.

He grabbed the offensive sweat pants off the floor where he had left them and put them on.

xxx

"Tell me why we're doing this again?" Mary asked as Marshall pushed her out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen.

"Brandi's trying to impress Peter and she's put a lot of effort in to this, so be nice," Marshall whispered in her ear as he rested his hand on the small of her back to prevent her from escaping back into the bedroom.

They entered the living room together thanks to Marshall's careful herding of Mary, and were greeted by Peter. Marshall shot Mary a quick glance to remind her to be nice but instantly regretted it.

"Hi, Peter," Mary greeted overly cheerful with a huge grin, "How are you? Have you had a good Thanksgiving?"

Peter looked at her, half puzzled, half scared by her cheery demeanour as he stuttered for an answer.

Marshall hid his grin and prodded Mary toward the kitchen as he hissed into her ear, "Not that nice!"

"Hey, Squish," Mary called, sounding more like herself and less like a air stewardess on Prozac.

"Hey, Mare," Brandi answered, not looking up from the book she was studying intently.

"Where's Mom?"

"In her room. She was supposed to be helping me with this...But she went to ask you something a while ago and I haven't seen her since. Did she find you?"

Marshall sniggered, "You could say that."

Mary shot him a dirty look. "What was she going to ask me?"

"If we have a turkey baster. But it's okay now, I used a spoon."

"Oh, okay." Mary lapsed into silence, glad there was not going to be any follow-up questions as to why Jinx hadn't returned or what she had found in Mary's room that would cause her to sulk in her room.

She leant on the kitchen worktop, watching Marshall lift lids off the pots on the stove and peer inside. Brandi sighed loudly and flipped the page she was reading over, looking for more information to aid her in the preparation of dinner.

"Can I help?" Mary offered.

"You?" Brandi scoffed. "You? Help in the kitchen?"

"Yes, me. I helped earlier. I made the cranberry sauce and it was okay. Wasn't it, Marshall?" Mary looked to her partner for back up.

"It was aerodynamically sound," Marshall allowed.

Brandi looked at him perplexed while Mary levelled her best glare at him, "We didn't get to eat any of it. But it looked nice," he added hastily.

"See!"

"Hmm...I don't know..." Brandi teased her sister, not knowing why she was so keen to help.

"Oh, come on, Squish, how hard can it be to cook a turkey?"

Marshall poked her in the shoulder, indicating she'd said something wrong and making her rethink her words. She quickly changed tack, distracting Brandi before the implied insult registered.

"What's the book?"

"It's Martha Stewart," Brandi said showing her the cover.

"Seriously?" Mary said as she moved to get a look at the advice offered by the domestic goddess.

"Yeah, it says here to discard the seeds and scoop out the flesh, which I've done," she told Mary, indicating the bowl of pumpkin meat on the side. "Now, I have to process it."

"Okay, so what's the problem?" Mary asked as she leant on the table to read the instructions for herself.

"Do we even have a food processor?"

Mary thought for a moment.

"We have a smoothy maker, will that do?"

"I don't know, what do you think?"

Mary shrugged, "Can't hurt to try," she said reaching into an infrequently used cupboard to retrieve the gadget.

Marshall watched long enough to see the sisters dust off the machine then, satisfied Mary wasn't going to destroy anything other than pumpkin innards, went to join Peter on the sofa.

xxx

"Hey, Brandi, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Mare," Brandi was distracted, peering at the turkey while nibbling her thumb nail.

"How do you know when...?" Mary trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase her question without it coming back to bite her in the ass.

"When, what?"

"How do you know if...?" she tried again.

Brandi stopped staring into the oven and faced her sister, not knowing where the conversation was headed, but concerned by Mary's reticence about it. She raised a puzzled eyebrow to encourage Mary to ask her question.

Mary grabbed Brandi's arm and pulled her toward the back of the kitchen, further from the two men in the living room.

"How do you know if a guy is attracted to you?" she asked in a rush.

"Jesus, Mare, if you don't know that..." Brandi joked until she saw Mary was serious, "Well...a reasonably good indication is if he has a honking big..."

"Brandi!" Mary yelped, horrified.

"What?"

"That's not something I ever want to hear my little sister say," she told her.

"What? Erection?" Brandi asked with a grin.

"Yeah," Mary said, realising how stupid it sounded even as she said it.

"How about coc..." Brandi began, but found Mary's hand slapped over her mouth before she could get the final K out.

"Jesus, Mary, who knew you were such a prude? Is that why Chico left?" Brandi asked when Mary removed her hand.

"No and no. I'm not a prude," Mary defended

"You are. You won't even let me say cock."

"Yeah, I will. Go ahead, knock yourself out," Mary surrendered, throwing her hands in the air.

"Cock!" Brandi yelled with unnecessary volume, causing the two men to exchange a glance as their conversation was interrupted by Brandi's exclamation.

They looked over at Brandi who was now involved in a play fight with Mary, yelling profanities all the while. The men's conversation was forgotten as they shifted to face the women, leaning on the back of the sofa. They watched, grinning, while Mary tried to restrain Brandi and silence her from shouting the list of profanities that didn't seem to be coming to an end. Mary finally managed to smother Brandi's expletives, but the struggle continued as Brandi tried to free herself of Mary's restraint.

"Is it wrong for me to be turned on by this?" Peter asked, quietly.

"Yeah," Marshall agreed, trying to sound disapproving.

"You too, huh?"

"Yeah," Marshall had to admit.

The two men grew quiet as they watched the sisters play fighting, each lost in his own thoughts. Brandi's curses had become incoherent squeals as Mary jumped on her back, wrapping her her legs and arms around her little sister, who soon slid to the floor, unable to support Mary's weight. The sounds of the struggle continued, punctuated by squeaks and giggles, out of sight of the two men leaving them to imagine the tussle that was taking place on the kitchen floor.

"What the hell is going on out here? It sounds like a bar full of sailors!" Jinx yelled above the noise of her two daughters squabbling.

Brandi stopped struggling against Mary and knelt up so she could look over the counter, "What?"

"Can't you two ever just get along?" Jinx enquired wearily.

Mary let go of Brandi as they both stood and exchanged a puzzled look.

"We're only messing around, Mom," Mary said, straightening her clothes.

Jinx scoffed and turned away.

"What's wrong, Mom?"

"Nothing. It's just..." she said with her back to them, "...it's just I don't know how you can be messing around when Raphael has left you. Or had you forgotten that?" She turned to face Brandi, "And I thought you were still mad that _she's_ managed to drive away your only friend."

Mary hid her finch at the venom in Jinx's tone when she said 'she's'.

"Yeah, I am. But it's Thanksgiving and she's still my sister after all," Brandi said with a shrug, always quick to forgive and forget.

"Gee, thanks, Squish," Mary muttered, eliciting a small smile from Brandi.

"I know," Jinx said, ignoring Mary's comment, "but this was supposed to be our first Thanksgiving together as a family..."

"We _are_ together as a family, Mom," Mary pointed out.

"Yeah, some family we are. Just look at the three of us! Three pathetic women that no one wants to love. The best you can do is an alcoholic, not surprising considering your mother." Jinx ignored the tears welling in Brandi's eyes and spun to face Mary, "And you, you're destined to drive away every man in your life!"

"Hey!" Mary tried to interject.

"Talk about history repeating itself!" Jinx continued, "I thought I taught you better than that! You should have at least had the decency to break up with Raphael before you jumped into bed with Marshall."

Jinx turned to face Marshall who had moved into the kitchen with the intention of defusing the situation if he could. He now found himself the recipient of Jinx's anger as she took two steps toward him, bringing her within his personal space meaning he couldn't help but notice the faint smell of alcohol on her breath.

"And you!" she accused with a finger levelled at his chest, "You're so willing to jump into Raph's place and Mary's bed. Was her bed even cold before you got into it? Hell, you're even wearing his clothes! He did so much for this family, he earned his place here. What have you done? Nothing! You've done nothing for us! You're not part of this family and you never will be! You think you can just come round here and slip into Raph's role? Well, you can't. Do..."

"That's enough, Mom!" Mary finally recovered from the shock of her mother attacking Marshall to come to his defence, "Marshall has done more for this family than you'll ever know. Whatever your problem is, take it out on me, not him!"

She grabbed her mom's arm and turned her towards her to make sure she got the point across clearly that Marshall was off limits. As she did so, she too noticed what Marshall had already divined.

"Jesus, Mom. Have you been drinking?"

"So what if I have? I needed to just to get through dinner with you!"

Mary stared at her in disbelief, struggling to overcome the urge to turn away and wash her hands of the whole thing when Peter seemed to miraculously appear from nowhere.

"May I?" he asked softly, gesturing to the now sobbing Jinx.

Mary threw her hands in the air, signalling defeat. She'd expected this dinner to be a nightmare, but had at least anticipated the fireworks waiting until after dinner. She looked around the kitchen as Peter gently coaxed Jinx back to her room, no doubt to find her secret stash. In the corner Brandi was reeling from the accusations that had been thrown, for once feeling bad for her sister for being on the receiving end of Jinx's recriminations. She caught Mary's eye as her sister looked at her and attempted to smile. She saw Mary almost nod in acknowledgement and for the first time noticed the pain and tiredness etched onto her sister's face. Mary suddenly looked much older to her and almost bored, like she had heard it all before and expected nothing else.

The silence in the kitchen extended to what felt like a lifetime as the Shannon women contemplated their messed up lives. The stillness was broken by the sound of the back door closing. Mary looked up, suddenly, realising it had been Marshall closing the door behind him. She sat at the table and rested her head in her hands, effectively hiding her slow, silent tears from Brandi as she realised her Mom's words were true. She _was_ destined to drive away every man in her life.

xxx

Marshall stood on the back porch, leaning on the rail. He turned from his contemplation of the reflections on the pool when he heard Mary open the door.

"Hey," she greeted.

He glanced her way, acknowledging her silently.

"I thought you'd gone," she said.

He remained silent as she leant on the rail next to him.

"What no witty comeback?"

"Not tonight," he replied dully.

She lapsed into silence for a while, watching him carefully out the corner of her eye.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking," he said

"What about?"

"Nothing," he lied.

They watched as he traced a finger along the rail, his eyes unfocused, hers calculating.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked again.

"Yeah," he sighed, not wanting to share his thoughts with her just yet.

Mary backed down, respecting his desire for silence and turned to look out over the garden. She stood quietly resisting the need to touch him. He obviously wanted to be alone, but Mary wasn't willing to grant him that. She'd made enough of a concession by keeping quiet. When she could resist no longer, she shifted her weight subtly so that she moved nearer Marshall, letting her arm rest against his so he could feel her presence. She was satisfied when Marshall didn't move away.

It had taken her a while to convince herself that Marshall's leaving hadn't been down to her, rather a result of the harsh words her Mom had thrown at him. Once she had realised that, she had gained a small measure of hope that she'd be able to repair the damage the following day when Marshall had cooled off.

She'd been surprised when Brandi had quietly pointed out to her that Marshall was loitering in the back garden and she'd managed to stop herself from rushing out there straight away, relieved that her mom hadn't managed to drive Marshall away completely. She'd given him some time to himself, keeping a discrete eye on him while helping Brandi and Peter finish cooking the dinner. Now the meal was almost ready and she was calmer, she'd ventured outside hoping to tempt him back inside. Unfortunately for her that was going to involve some patience. The only way she knew to get Marshall to talk was to out wait him.

She looked out over the garden and was mentally listing all the work she should do when Marshall finally spoke.

"I don't want to go home," he told the night.

Mary looked at him and saw the loneliness and defeat in his stance.

"Stay then," she told him.

Marshall remained still, contemplating her offer, wondering if it included staying the night and thinking whether or not another night with Mary would make his problems worse when it all came tumbling down around him. He suddenly noticed the cold air against his arm where Mary had removed her touch. He was mourning the loss of her warmth when he felt her hand in his back, stroking him gently. He looked at her, surprised by the tender gesture.

"Marshall, talk to me?"

"It's Thanksgiving," he shrugged, "I'm supposed to be grateful for all the good thing in my life, but I've spent all day with other people's families and..." he ran a hand through his hair in frustration, not needing to point out how hurtful it had been to hear Jinx remind him this wasn't his family, "...and I'm just so goddamn tired of being lonely, Mare."

"You have your family," Mary pointed out.

"Yeah, whom I haven't seen in years," he replied bitterly.

"Why don't you go home if you miss your family that much?"

"I can't. And Ellen's not there this weekend, anyway."

Mary looked over her shoulder, through the window into the lounge where she could see Jinx and Brandi hugging. Obviously Peter had persuaded her to apologise.

"You can share my family if you want, regardless of what Jinx said. Although God only knows why you'd want to. Hell! I'll swap them for yours if you want. "

Marshall smiled at her, "You wouldn't do that. Your family's too important to you."

"No, you're probably right. But if you're good, I'll let you take one of them home tonight for company and I'll even let you choose which one."

"You," Marshall said without thinking.

"Huh?"

"I'd pick you. To come home with me tonight. For company."

Mary peered at him, trying to ascertain if he was serious and if he was actually inviting her back to his for the night.

"Okay," she nodded, letting him take it however he wanted, "but you're going home for Christmas."

"What?" he bit, instantly distracted from her ready agreement.

"What 'what'? I'm not putting up with you moping around through another family holiday," she told him as she opened the back door, "Plus, I already promised Ellen we'd be there."

Marshall watched as she metaphorically dropped the bombshell and ran, letting the door swing close behind her as she slipped back into the house. He had no choice but to follow and brave the wrath of Jinx if he wanted to find out what she meant and maybe collect his reward later.


	43. Skirting the Subject

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 43 – Skirting the Subject**

As it happened, Marshall never found out if Mary had accepted his invitation for her to stay at his place, or not.

Dinner wasn't served until almost 10 pm thanks to Brandi's decision to wait for them to arrive before starting cooking. Her plan had at least ensured that the food wasn't ruined by their late appearance and Marshall had been pleasantly surprised to find that, despite Mary's protestations otherwise, she and Brandi weren't bad cooks. While everybody else picked at their dinner, appetites diminished by the uncomfortable atmosphere at the table, Mary and Marshall ate with gusto. They weren't US Marshals for nothing. They were experienced at dealing with more dangerous situations than Jinx shooting daggers at them with her eyes and knew to eat when they had the chance, regardless of distractions.

After Marshall had helped himself to his third slice of pumpkin pie, earning him disbelieving stares from the others at the table at the amount he was eating, he had volunteered to clear up as part of a plan to enable him to unashamedly pick at the leftovers.

Peter had also offered to help after being guilted into it by Brandi. The two men had washed up in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Peter contemplating Jinx's fall off the wagon and wondering if it was just a slip or if she had relapsed and he hadn't noticed. Marshall's thoughts hadn't been anywhere near as focused, spinning all over the place as his discomfort at wearing Raphael's clothes returned to him now he didn't have food to fixate on. His mind flitted back and forth, trying not to dwell on Jinx's word or Mary's declaration that they were going home for Christmas by contemplating the origin of the phrase 'off the wagon' and focusing on the fact Mary had just assumed she'd be going with him at Christmas.

The three women had sat in the living room in icy silence, the playful mood between the two sisters long since dissipated thanks to their Mom's presence. Without the men there to mediate, Mary had struggled to keep her opinions to herself, opting to say nothing rather than risking sharing her true feelings.

When the men had joined them to watch reruns of the holiday episodes of _Friends _the conversation had picked up slightly. They made comments on hairdos through the ages and the costume choices of the principal actors, but never went so far as to comment on the holiday based activities showing on the screen. Brandi and Mary joined in the discussion of which was their favourite episode or the line from the show, but no one could tempt Jinx to join the conversation. The elephant in the room made no comment at all.

Whether it was the commonly blamed tryptophan or the carbohydrates, as Marshall maintained, his full stomach and long day had him falling asleep on Mary's couch long before he could even think about making it to his car.

No one had commented as Mary had lifted his legs onto the sofa and pulled a comforter over him. Brandi and Peter had taken that as the signal for them to retire for the night. Jinx had left the room in disgust, still angry at how easily Mary seemed to be replacing Raphael, but disgusted at herself for saying those things to Marshall even as a small part of her kept saying he had deserved it.

The morning had dawned with Marshall feeling no more comfortable than he had the night before. The couch wasn't designed for a man his height to sleep on and his back was the first to complain. His memories of the previous night and his desire to get out of Mary's ex-fiancé's clothes had him up and about long before the sun. Having no desire to face Jinx this morning, he had crept into Mary's room to retrieve his clothes before he left. He took a moment to watch Mary sleep before resetting her alarm for an hour earlier than she had planned, just to annoy her. He then made his silent exit from the house and drove home.

xxx

Eleanor and Stan arrived together, prompting Marshall to shoot a pointed look in Mary's direction which went unnoticed. He'd been in what Mary classed as an irritatingly good mood since she'd arrived at the office an hour earlier than planned. A shower and a set of his own, clean clothes had worked wonders on his outlook on life.

"Good morning, Inspectors," Stan greeted cheerfully.

"Morning, Stan," Marshall called, just as cheerful. "Hey, Eleanor, that's a pretty skirt."

Eleanor thanked him and hung her coat on the rack before heading over to the coffee pot. Mary didn't respond to their arrival, choosing to remain slumped over her desk, head buried in her arms. Stan stopped to look at her before entering his office.

"Morning, Mary," he tried again while Marshall snickered quietly.

"Mmph mphmm," came the reply, muffled by her arms as she rested her head in the crock of her elbow.

"What's up with her?"

Marshall glanced over at his partner before replying laughingly, "_Someone _set her alarm wrong, it went off earlier than she'd planned."

Mary's head lifted at his accusation that she'd made a mistake. "I know it was you," she hissed with a half-hearted glare at Marshall.

"Prove it!" Marshall challenged, leaning back in his chair.

He'd managed to keep a straight face and sound suitably sympathetic when Mary had come storming in to the office cursing her alarm. He'd almost succeeded in convincing her that she'd set the wrong time by mistake when he'd cracked slightly, letting her see through his act and realisation dawn. Half the fun of the practical joke was letting the other person in on it anyway.

"Jackass," she muttered as she slumped back over her desk.

Stan and Marshall exchanged a grin, enjoying getting one over on Mary for a change.

"Sooo...Good Thanksgiving, then?" Stan enquired.

"Yeah, did you want reports on the witness visits?" Marshall deflected the question with one of his own.

"Yeah, I'll need something. I know you were both technically off duty, but you did borrow a car from the pool which I need to justify. Don't spend too long on it. I don't want you to miss the party this afternoon."

Any additional comment Stan was about to make was interrupted by a groan from Mary at the reminder of the annual Black Friday party. The party was held by the Albuquerque branch of the marshal service as a refuge from the hoards of holiday shoppers and took place in the Courthouse on one of the few days of the year it was closed. It was the highlight of the marshals social calender and was eagerly anticipated by all members of the service. All except one, it seemed.

"Sure, Stan," Marshall agreed, ignoring Mary's protest.

Stan decided it was best to leave his inspectors to it and headed into his office to check his emails.

"Do you two want coffee?" Eleanor asked as she poured herself a cup.

Mary instantly sat up, bright-eyed and muttering, "coffee, coffee, coffee," as a kind of mantra, making Marshall laugh.

Eleanor brought both marshals a cup of coffee, which Mary accepted eagerly. She was just about to take a much needed sip when her natural suspicion kicked in.

"Give me your coffee," she told Marshall.

"What? Why?" he asked, confused.

"Just in case," Mary said with a suspicious glance at Eleanor.

"Oh for the love of..." Eleanor said as she grabbed the mug out of Marshall's hand and swapped it for the one in Mary's. "Happy now?"

"Better."

"How do you know she hasn't done something to mine?" Marshall asked once he'd taken a large gulp from the new mug, worried it would be taken away from him again.

"She likes you, for some reason," Mary told him, sipping her coffee with caution.

"Well, I'm a likeable person," Marshall told her with a smug grin.

"You're a suck up."

"No, I'm not."

"Then what was the nice skirt comment earlier?" she asked pointedly.

"What? It is a nice skirt. Can't I compliment a colleague on her exemplary wardrobe choices?"

"Why, thank you, Marshall," Eleanor smiled as Marshall lifted his mug in silent salute to her.

"You're such a girl," Mary muttered.

"Maybe you should try wearing a skirt more often, Mary," Eleanor suggested.

"Me?" Mary asked, glaring at Marshall as he suddenly became very interested in something on his desk.

He was desperately trying not to look at her or burst out laughing.

"Yes, you," Eleanor clarified, puzzled by their reactions.

"I would," Mary replied thoughtfully, "but Marshall wouldn't be able to keep his hands off me."

Mary had timed her comment perfectly, Marshall had just taken another large gulp of coffee and almost choked at her words. He stared at Mary, unable to believe she had just said that, only to find her staring right back at him with a wicked gleam in her eyes. Eleanor looked between the two and realised there was more to that seemingly innocent comment than met the eye.

Before she could get to the bottom of it, Stan appeared in his doorway with a print out of an email in his hand.

"Can one of you explain to me why the vehicle you signed out yesterday was returned with half a turkey in the glove compartment?" he asked, only to have Mary and Marshall dissolve in a fit of giggles.

xxx

Stan looked up to see Marshall loitering in his doorway.

"What's up?"

"I was just thinking about the party," Marshall said.

"And?" Stan prompted when it was clear Marshall wasn't going to continue.

"Well, people take their wives and partners, don't they?"

"Yeah," Stan agreed slowly, unsure where this was heading.

"Well, I was wondering if I could bring someone this year?" Marshall finally asked, nervously.

Stan considered the question for a moment. The party was for all branches of the marshal service and partners were invited as standard. Marshall didn't, technically, have to ask his permission to bring someone, but he had anyway.

"It could be a problem," Stan admitted. "If they ask questions about why you don't know the other Marshals as well as you should..."

Mary and Marshall were familiar with a lot of the marshals in Albuquerque especially those that were often assigned to the security details for their witnesses. But the fact that, as WITSEC inspectors, they were a breed apart and higher up the pecking order than the common marshal created a gulf between them and their colleagues. On a normal day it didn't matter as they had each other, but it would be noticeable to an outsider that neither of them had friends among the ranks. It was an unavoidable situation, but one which would be hard to explain to anyone who thought they were just standard marshals.

Marshall shifted uncomfortably, "I don't think she will."

Stan peered at him a moment, contemplating whether or not to follow up on that statement, leaving an gap in the conversation that Mary didn't hesitate to fill.

"Who are you taking?" Mary yelled across the office, not wanting to move form her desk and appear too interested in Marshall's mystery woman. "Do I know her? And why didn't you tell me you'd asked someone? Great!" She threw her hands in the air, masking her hurt with frustration, "Now I have to find a date or risk having to talk to Donovan from the ESU all night."

Marshall rolled his eyes and called back, "I haven't asked her yet."

"What sort of woman can you call up on short notice to go to a party? Is she a hooker?" Mary asked, appearing next to Marshall suddenly. She brushed past him so she could take a seat and be comfortable while she took over the interrogation.

"She's not a hooker," he told her, as he stepped into the office and took a seat. He looked at Mary and Stan, "But here's where it gets complicated..."


	44. Amy and Amiability

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 44 – Amy and Amiability**

Amy had been thrilled to receive a call from Marshall inviting her to their Black Friday party.

Stan hadn't been nearly as thrilled at the suggestion, which had lead to an in-depth discussion of whether it would be safe for Amy to attend. Marshall had pointed out that the only place safer for a witness than a party attended by the entire marshal service, would be the bunker at Cheyenne Mountain, but it was a long drive and there'd be no party once they got there.

Stan had countered by saying that, while it might be physically safe for her to go, it would compromise WITSEC security. Marshall had maintained that she was sensible enough to stick to the 'casual friends' standard story.

Stan had pointed out that too many marshals would question him bringing a casual acquaintance to the party when so many of them would also know which branch of the service he was with. Marshall had begged to differ, saying no one would question if he introduced her as his date.

Mary had questioned the suitability of him taking a woman half his age as a date. Marshall had smiled and made a comment about being the envy of all the men. Mary had stated that Amy probably wouldn't want to go with a guy twice her age anyway. Marshall had shrugged and said, "She won't mind."

Mary had asked how he could be so sure and had received a smile and his standard refrain of, "I know my witness."

Mary had contemplated his words for a moment then shrugged and switched sides fast enough to give Stan whiplash. His remaining objections had melted away in the face of his two officers combined assurances that Amy wouldn't compromise her cover or WITSEC.

Marshall had smiled as he reached for the phone on Stan's desk, resolving to save telling Stan about Amy's desire to become a US Marshal for another day.

xxx

As Mary and Amy stood in the doorway, looking over the assembled crowd and waiting for Marshall, Mary leaned to Amy and murmured, "A word of advice, stay away from Donovan."

Amy's eyes darted to Mary then back to the crowd, trying to pick out who Mary was referring to.

"Which one's Donovan?" she asked as Marshall appeared behind the two women.

"He's that one over there," Mary pointed out. "Middle aged white guy that thinks he's God's gift to women just because he has a badge."

"I think you've just described every male law enforcement officer I've met," Amy said with a wry grin.

"Hey!" Marshall interjected, pretending to be annoyed.

Mary and Amy grinned at each other before Amy finally acknowledged Marshall's presence, "Oh, sorry Marshall."

"Well, Ladies, are we ready to mingle? Or are we just going to stand in the doorway and glower?" Marshall asked.

"Who's glowering?" Amy asked with a quick glance over at Marshall which resulted in her catching the expression on Mary's face, "Oh."

Marshall offered his arm to Amy with an exaggerated courtly bow, making Amy giggle and Mary roll her eyes. Marshall saw Mary's eye roll and echoed it before offering her his other arm. She took it with a shake of her head and together the three of them entered the party.

xxx

Mary stood at the buffet table studiously regarding the spread in an attempt to avoid talking to anybody. She had one eye on the door, waiting for Stan to arrive so she could prove she had actually been there while she occasionally shot daggers at Marshall's back for abandoning her. He stood slightly off to her left, Amy next to him, as they chatted to a guy from the other office.

From where she stood, she could just make out their conversation.

"So, what was stolen?" Marshall asked.

"That's the weird thing, each time they ignored the PCs and laptops and just grabbed the processors, motherboards and the like," said Jackson, a marshal from the local investigative branch.

"Sounds like they've got something specific planned," Marshall commented as he took a sip of his drink.

"What would they want with those components?" Amy asked, intrigued by the process Jackson was using to track and locate the group he suspected was behind the recent break-ins.

"At a guess, I'd say they were trying to make a server or a supercomputer, maybe," Marshall told her with authority.

Jackson laughed, causing both Amy and Marshall to turn to him.

"What's so funny?"

"Since when did you become an expert on computers?" Jackson asked, incredulous.

"What? I've always had an interest in computers," Marshall defended.

"Yeah, right!" Jackson began, fully intending to mock Marshall until he saw the look the other man was shooting him. "I'd heard that," he finished, lamely.

Amy looked from one marshal to the other, trying to work out what was going on. Getting nowhere, she struck up the conversation again, "So why would they want a supercomputer? It sounds like something an evil mastermind would use to take over the world. Is that who we're looking for?"

"Not quite, I suspect we're looking for a group with ties to identity theft. They want the pieces to increase the power of existing computers to enable them to decrypt security codes. Unless, you have another idea, Marshall?" Jackson turned to Marshall with a sly grin.

Marshall looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot until Amy finally asked, "What is up with you two?"

Marshall glanced at the floor sheepishly, "Ummm..."

"Our resident computer expert here, was the idiot who managed to crash the Marshal service network for nine hours," Jackson revealed with more pleasure than Marshall thought was strictly necessary.

"Were you looking at porn?" Amy couldn't resist asking.

"No, squirrels," Marshall said softly.

"What?" Both Amy and Jackson spluttered loudly causing several people to look over.

"Oh, man, you'd have been better off looking at porn," Jackson said laughingly, "When this gets around the department..." he shook his head knowingly.

"What? I'd found an injured squirrel and I was looking for information on how to care for it. I found a couple of academic papers that required some sort of login, which I tried to circumvent. It all went belly up from there," Marshall explained with a shrug.

Jackson looked at him incredulously, "Please tell me you made that up just to get laid."

Marshall just looked at Jackson with a silly, unreadable smile on his face. Jackson rolled his eyes and resigned himself to never knowing if Marshall was joking or not. Amy regarded him, knowing that he wasn't trying to get her in the sack and had to conclude he was probably telling the truth, but wishing Mary was there to confirm it for her.

"Anyway, it was years ago," Marshall continued, "and I've taken a couple of computer courses since then," he added for Jackson's benefit. "I've even built my own computer."

"Was it super?" Amy asked.

Marshall shot her a dirty look, one he'd honed on Mary and Amy giggled.

"So, you're saying you'd have an interest in procuring the components I mentioned? Just where were you Tuesday night?" Jackson teased.

"I was at home," Marshall said, humouring him and knowing it was probably true, but failing to recall any details at a moments notice.

As the salient memories surfaced from Marshall's fathomless brain he tried his best to move the conversation back into his control. If only to banish the images of a naked Mary writhing beneath him from his mind.

"I feel it's necessary to state, at this point, that I'm not involved in a plan to take over the world using a vast army of highly trained and cybernetically altered squirrels," Marshall joked, then kicked himself as he saw the puzzled look settle over Jackson's face.

He sighed quietly as he wished Mary was with him to break the uncomfortable silence that always followed when someone didn't get one of his jokes. If she was there with him, she'd not only get the joke, but she'd say something outrageous to draw attention away from his discomfort. As Amy carried on the conversation, with both her and Jackson shooting weird looks at him every so often, he sighed again. At least he had prevented Jackson from asking the obvious follow up question; "can anybody confirm you were home that night?" Even as a joke, Marshall knew he wouldn't be able to bluff his way out of that without someone finding out Mary had spent that night at his. He looked round the room to see where she was and tried to calculate how quickly he could escape back to her side.

He spotted her talking to one of the few women in the service, unaware of the approach of the detested Donovan. He glanced at Amy, checking she was okay chatting to Jackson then made his way over to Mary, intent on rescuing her from a potentially uncomfortable situation and rescuing himself at the same time.


	45. Secret Service

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 45 – Secret Service**

"Some women like a man with an air of danger," Donovan said to Mary as he sidled closer to her.

Mary took a step to her left, saying, "Please, you're as dangerous as a peanut snickerdoodle!"

"Really?" he crooned, "They can be fatal if you have an allergy..."

Mary's eyes narrowed, not believing the front of this guy, didn't he ever get the hint?

"Yeah, well, the only thing I'm allergic to is married, middle aged men looking to score, so get lost."

Donovan looked slightly affronted, not used to being rejected so quickly and so bluntly. He stared at Mary for a few more seconds, searching her face for any sign that she was joking. She took a menacing, half step toward him and he scuttled away, leaving Mary alone with only Marshall's voice in her ears.

"Aw, Mare, that wasn't very kind."

Mary turned round to see Marshall standing behind her, smirking at her.

"If I was trying to be kind, I'd have put a bullet through his head," Mary muttered.

"I don't suppose you have a spare bullet for me, do you?" Marshall said quietly, leaning in close to her.

"What did you do, now?" Mary asked, exasperated.

"I may have mentioned something about training an army of cybernetic squirrels to take over the world," Marshall sighed.

Mary chuckled, "Who were you talking to?"

"Jackson," he replied, sounding depressed.

Mary looked at him, seeing the defeat in his posture as he catalogued his latest failure at friendship with the others.

"Marshall," Mary whined, "That was supposed to be _our_ _secret_ plan! Now we're going to have to come up with a new plan. Hmmm...How about cybernetic chipmunks? Even Jackson will never see that coming!"

Marshall laughed, feeling himself relax as Mary said exactly what he needed to hear.

"So, where did you ditch Amy?" Mary asked.

"I left her with Jackson, they seemed to be getting on okay," Marshall nodded in their direction.

"Well, at least one of us has some social skills." She looked round the room and spied the bar. Dragging Marshall with her she said, "I know what will help."

xxx

Amy was enjoying herself. She'd met marshals from a range of departments and so far hadn't met one that she didn't like. She'd avoided the one Mary had pointed out as Donovan, but had introduced herself to others so she could ask about life as a marshal as surreptitiously as possible. She'd kept the conversation focused on whoever she was talking to to avoid answering questions about herself and gather as much information as she could.

She'd found the conversations easy and had even enjoyed good-natured teasing and the jokes made at her expense one she revealed she was there as Marshall's date. The few times she had been asked anything personal she'd managed to side step the issue and the marshal she'd been talking to had let her change the subject. She found it a refreshing change from her friends at work who wouldn't let the subject drop, even when it was obvious she didn't want to continue.

Most of the marshals she spoke to were reasonably open about their role in the service, but didn't go into too many details which Amy respected. But now she'd been introduced to a woman who was more curious, yet more evasive, than most.

"So, are you a marshal, then?" Eleanor asked the young woman before her.

"No, I'm just dating one," Amy told her.

"Lucky girl," Eleanor said with a wink, "Which one?"

Amy searched the room with her eyes until she located Marshall. She found him sitting at the bar with Mary, talking and laughing with each other and ignoring the party going on around them. She nodded in his direction, "That one."

"Ah. You must be Amy, then," Eleanor surmised.

"Yes," she confirmed, wondering how this woman knew her.

"I work in the same office as Mary and Marshall," Eleanor explained, sensing her confusion, "I'm surprised we haven't met before."

"What do you do in the office? Are you a marshal, too?" Amy asked.

"I'm an administrator, I run the office."

"So you're in charge of them?" she gestured in the direction of Mary and Marshall again.

"No, just the office," Eleanor corrected. "That's enough of a challenge with them in it. Plus, I'm not crazy."

"What do you mean?" Amy asked confused.

"You'd have to be either stupid, crazy or suicidal to give Mary orders," Eleanor explained.

"Really? She seems nice to me," Amy was surprised.

"Nice?" Eleanor choked, "We are talking about the same Mary, aren't we?"

"Yeah, the one sat next to Marshall," Amy clarified.

"Yeah, that's the one, it's just 'nice' isn't a word usually associated with her. Still, she can be thoughtful at times," Eleanor conceded.

"Yet, completely thoughtless at others," Amy said with a small smile.

"Ahhh, you do know her then," Eleanor grinned.

xxx

When Mary looked at something other than the bartender, her partner or her drink for the first time in hours, she looked at the room. She was surprised to find it contained a fraction of the people it had earlier.

"Where's everyone gone?" she asked Marshall.

He did his own survey of the room.

"The hardcore partyers have probably moved on to a bar or club, those with families went home a while ago, leaving us hangers-on," he explained. He didn't point out that the hangers-on were generally the people with nowhere else to go.

"Huh. So, what do you want to do tonight?" Mary asked, eyeing her drink and wondering if she should get another one or if they'd be leaving soon.

Marshall looked at her askance, "Are you actually asking me what I want to do tonight?"

Mary nodded, "Sure, why not?"

"And once I've told you, what is the likelihood that we'll actually do it? Or are you only asking me so you can mock my choice before you drag me into whatever fiendish plan you've devised?"

Mary hadn't had an ulterior motive in mind when she had asked, she hadn't given it any thought at all, just asking for something to say. Now she thought about it, an evening with Marshall didn't sound too bad, still she didn't want him to know that. She pulled out her notepad and made a show of checking she hadn't missed anything that she'd need to take care of tonight to show Marshall he was her last resort. The top sheet of the pad was full of notes, the last two days had been a maelstrom of activity and she had relied heavily on her pad to make sure everything got done. But all the items on her list were crossed off and Mary realised she genuinely didn't have any plans for the evening.

One item on her list caught her eye. Raph's name had been crossed out along with all her other tasks. Somehow looking at the neatly deleted reminder drove home the fact that he had actually left her. He hadn't been at her house for over a week, but then neither had she. She had avoided going home as much as possible and had only spent two nights there since he had left. Those times she had snuck in late and left early to avoid her family and their yelling. The prospect of spending time with her family had been too much for her so she'd spent as much time as possible at the office, sleeping there when needed. When Marshall had realised what she was doing and insisted she surface for air, she had gone home with him.

So far, she hadn't had to face the depressingly empty closet and her family's accusations for more than a few minutes at a time. Even last night, she had avoided all discussion of Raphael when she could, aided and abetted in her task by Marshall as he sat next to her at the head of the Thanksgiving table. Yesterday there had been plenty of other things to talk about and the presence of Peter and Marshall had kept her family's manners mostly in check. Today there would be no such cover, which made the prospect of going home less appealing than anything Marshall might be able to come up with.

"So, what do you want to do tonight?" Mary finally enquired as she put her pad away.

Marshall took a sip of his drink, sensing her seriousness and taking a moment to give his answer the amount of thought it deserved.

"That depends, if I could be assured of the pleasure of your company for the evening, I would have a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant along with a couple of glasses of wine, then we could go back to mine and find something to do. If I'm to spend the evening by myself, it wouldn't be much different, I'd go home do some chores and watch a movie, maybe something with subtitles."

"What if you could do anything at all? What would you do?"

"Dinner with you in a nice restaurant, but I'd specify that you were wearing a skirt," he told her instantly, then covered his words with a smirk to try and hide his desire for her in a joke.

Mary happened to be looking at Marshall as he spoke and she noticed the smirk which didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Okay, then," she said.

Marshall looked at her in surprise, he'd never considered she'd actually agree to his wishful thinking. He watched as she finished her drink in a single gulp and stood to leave.

"Are you coming?" she asked as he remained in his seat.

"Yeah," he said, rushing to stand, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"You're paying, though."

"Of course," Marshall agreed as they made their way across the now almost deserted room.

xxx

Amy and Eleanor were two of the people who had left the party and headed to a nearby bar. They had sequestered themselves in a corner along with several marshals from the security detachment usually assigned to WITSEC. Eleanor knew her counterpart in the security office well from countless phone calls organising protection for witnesses and she'd been invited to join them for a couple of drinks before they called it a night. The invite had extended to Amy as she chatted to Eleanor and seeing no reason not to go, she had joined the small group.

"So, do you think Mary and Marshall are still at the court house?" Amy asked Eleanor when the three other marshals were distracted, talking about some interoffice rivalry they had going with the judicial security branch.

"I doubt it," Eleanor said, "They probably left as soon as they could. They're probably holed up somewhere, just the two of them with a bottle of whiskey."

"I don't know, they were still there when we left," Amy said, taking a sip of her drink.

"Were they?" Eleanor was surprised. Part of the reason everyone left the party early was because the bean-counters that organised it never sprung for enough alcohol to last into the night. She couldn't imagine Mary and Marshall sticking around at a party they didn't want to be at when there was no alcohol left. Although, she reasoned, Marshall probably enjoyed the opportunity to socialise and where Marshall went, Mary was sure to follow. Plus, she'd left before the booze had completely run out, whereas Mary would never voluntarily go to a bar and pay for drinks if there was a free option.

Eleanor smirked, "So, Marshall let you leave with, not just another man, but three other men? He's not a very good date!"

Amy laughed, "He barely noticed I was leaving, I don't think he knows that we're carrying on the party here."

"That's not like him," Eleanor frowned.

"He was too anxious to get back to Mary," Amy informed her.

"Still," Eleanor made a mental note to have a word with him about abandoning his witness.

Amy read the thoughts on the other woman's face and hurriedly reassured her, "It's okay, I don't need him to hold my hand every time I cross the road. I can go to parties and everything without a full security detail. I'm not the President."

Eleanor subsided a bit, knowing Amy was right.

"Plus, it looked like they were getting cozy," Amy added.

"Were they?" Eleanor enquired, ready for some gossip.

"Yeah, since the bet, they've been..."

"The bet?" Eleanor cut in.

"Yeah, since the bet with Marshall's sister, they've..."

"What bet?" Eleanor asked, glossing over the mention of a sister but resolving to revisit that later.

Amy looked puzzled that Eleanor didn't know about the bet. Eleanor smiled sweetly at her, the smile that reassured the person she was talking to that she could be trusted with any secret. The smile worked it's magic once again.

"Well, Mary bet Marshall that she wouldn't be able to pass as his fiancée while his sister was in town," Amy disclosed with eagerness, thrilled to have someone to gossip with.

"Mary bet Marshall?" Eleanor clarified.

"Umm..." Amy thought back to that day in the car, "Yeah, she did. Although she may have been provoked."

Amy may have been an ex-prostitute who had testified in court against the organisers of a sex-trafficking ring, she may have killed a man in self defence and she was a protected witness, but none of that prepared her for Eleanor's gentle interrogation. Carefully, step by step, Eleanor lead Amy through the events of the last few weeks as Amy had seen them. For Amy had witnessed something and Eleanor knew the one thing that even the best lawyer was liable to forget.

Amy was just a teenager with a secret when it all came down to it.

xxx

Mary giggled uncontrollably as she unlocked Marshall's front door and fell inside. There was a reason the women in her family shouldn't drink wine.

Marshall followed behind her, grinning stupidly. He hadn't managed to persuade her to change into a skirt before heading to the restaurant, but that hadn't diminished his enjoyment of the evening. They had spent the dinner chatting as friends do, bickering as lovers do. Mary had fabricated a story for the waiter, telling him it was their tenth wedding anniversary in order to wheedle a complimentary bottle of wine out of the restaurant. The waiter had taken one look at the pair of them and called the manager over to authorize the wine. Marshall had taken immense pleasure in making up a ludicrous tale about how he had proposed to Mary, just to see how much crap they would buy from him before they questioned the relationship. He was secretly pleased when they didn't, even though Mary was openly staring at him in disbelief at his story.

They had lingered over desert, savouring the confections. Marshall had ordered another bottle of wine and they had shared it slowly, ignorant of the dirty looks the waiters were giving them for occupying the table when they wanted to clear up and go home. They were the last people to leave the restaurant, drifting along the sidewalk outside as Marshall tried to hail a cab.

The real highlight of the evening, for Marshall, was the moment they got out the cab and Mary stumbled up the path to his house, dragging her keys out of her bag so she could unlock the front door. That they would go back to his had never been discussed, likewise, Mary's assumption that Marshall would pay the cab fare while she opened the door. Watching her open his door without being asked, thrilled him and gave him hope. The hope would fade as his body metabolised the alcohol but the image would at least last.

As he followed Mary through his house, he realised she was heading straight for his bedroom. He watched in awe as she shimmied her way into his bathroom, dancing to a song only she could hear. He loitered at the end of the bed, waiting for her to emerge and to see what direction the rest of the evening would take.


	46. The Crack of Dawn

**A****N:** Welcome to ChappaEyebrow, who's just joined us and if there are any other newcomers to this story, who have just read the entire thing, I'd love to hear your thoughts...

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 46 – The Crack of Dawn**

"Dear God, please don't make me get up this morning!" Mary implored of whatever god may have been listening.

She was curled under the covers of the bed, she was warm and comfortable, but knew both those states were temporary, dependent on her staying in bed. The last few days had been frantic and she wanted nothing more than to have a day to relax and regroup. She wanted a day where the most strenuous thing she had to do was lift the remote, where the most taxing decision she had to make was whether to order Chinese or pizza for dinner.

"I wasn't planning to," Marshall's voice informed her, answering her plea, "And you don't have to call me God, Mare. It's so formal."

Mary froze.

Marshall's voice was close.

Very close.

She reached out a hand behind her, exploring the bed.

Yeap, that was an arm.

She ran her hand down the arm until she found the hand at the end of it. The hand clasped hers and both sets of fingers intertwined. Only Marshall would be brave enough or foolish enough to hold her hand, from which she concluded she was, indeed, in bed with him.

It wasn't the first time she'd woken up next to him, it had become an almost regular occurrence over the last three weeks, so why did it feel so strange this morning? Was it the comfortable familiarity of the situation? Was it the fact that neither of them had consciously planned to end up in bed together, yet they had anyway through some assumed mutual consent? Was it the fact that it hadn't been preceded by sex? Was this what it was like to be in a stable relationship? To be able to go to bed together with the ease of practise rather than the heat of passion.

They had fallen into bed together without a word. Mary had located something to sleep in from the pile of laundry she had left at his house and had changed in front of Marshall as he sat on the end of his bed. Marshall had followed her example, changing and slipping into bed before her. He had thrown the covers back to invite her to join him and had been silently ecstatic when she had slid in next to him and made herself comfortable.

Last night 'comfortable' had involved getting as close to Marshall as she could and letting him stroke her until she fell asleep. The quiet companionship of the evening ritual was new to Mary, she was more used to collapsing, exhausted, into bed by herself or working off any excess energy with a bout passionate sex. Neither option left much room for conversation, but the silence of last night had held a different quality and, as she thought about it, she realised it was one she could get used to.

The thought terrified her which was probably what was making her uneasy this morning.

She extricated her hand from Marshall's and turned to face him.

He was laying on his back one hand behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He had a corner of the covers draped over him, the only section that Mary hadn't claimed during the night. She noticed the goosebumps on his arms where his T-shirt sleeves ended. Silently cursing, she struggled to unwrap the covers from around her body. Once free, she threw half over Marshall, earning her a surprised look.

"Why didn't you say you were cold, or at least put up a fight for your half?"

"I didn't want you to be cold," Marshall murmured as he pulled the covers around himself.

Mary said nothing, just lay there considering her partner. He lay, contemplating the ceiling, his thoughts unknown to her. She wondered what he could find so fascinating about the white paintwork. She turned onto her back and studied it more closely. At first it looked like any ceiling. Then she noticed the fine cracks in the paintwork running across it and the unevenness that made it unique. She followed one of the cracks with her eyes, tracing its path.

"What are you thinking about?" Marshall asked, breaking the silence.

"Your ceiling has cracks in it."

"Yeah, it needs repainting," Marshall said, turning his attention to the condition of his room. "The whole room needs a spruce, but I haven't had time."

Mary looked at him, "A spruce?"

"Yeah, you know, a coat of paint, some home improvements, a quick once over, a paint job, redecorating..."

"I know what a spruce is, you moron, I've just never heard a man use the word before."

"Well, you know me," Marshall said with a tired smile.

"Yeah," Mary breathed before letting the silence return.

They studied the ceiling some more. Marshall started contemplating just what it would take for him to redo the room in a different colour and which colour to do it.

"I could lend you my paint brushes, if you wanted them," he offered, not bothering to fill Mary in on the thought processes that had lead him to offer.

"I'd need some walls before I could paint them," she said, pointing out the obvious.

Marshall went to mention that Raphael had started to repair the walls, then decided better of it. He returned to thinking about the safer topic of what colour to paint the walls.

Mary's thoughts spun in a different direction. She thought about her house and the wreck it had become. No wonder she never wanted to go home. She'd have to be insane to want to go back there with the holes in the walls, the constant arguments and the faint scent of failure. She'd not thought much of it before, but since she'd started staying at Marshall's more, she'd begun to realise it wasn't normal. At Marshall's she could find peace and quiet, surrounded by solid walls. At Marshall's she could relax and be herself. He knew all her secrets. All her family's secrets.

Mary sighed loudly, finally having to face the truth of her family life. Yesterday she'd been able to ignore the fact that her mom was drinking again, today she couldn't.

"Jinx is drinking again," she told the ceiling.

"I know," Marshall said.


	47. Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days

**AN: **Thanks to roar526 for her ideas on how to get this story moving forward again.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 47 - Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days**

Mary returned home to a surprisingly empty house.

She had spent a lazy morning in bed with Marshall. Neither of them had wanted to get up and face the world so they had laid in bed chatting idly until hunger had driven them into the kitchen. They had spent the afternoon reading the newspapers in front of the TV, channel surfing and mocking any program they lingered on for more than a few minutes.

Mary had finally departed some time before dinner, stopping to pick up take-out for her family on her way home, which made the empty house all that more irritating.

As she spread the take-out containers across the kitchen table, she spotted a note on the fridge door.

_Gone out. Back later._

_Brandi._

'Gee, Brandi, that was enlightening,' Mary thought.

She was piling a portion of rice onto her plate when she heard movement from the direction of the bedrooms. Turning, she saw Jinx enter the kitchen. Obviously the house wasn't as empty as she'd first thought.

Jinx nodded at Mary then looked around the room as if she was searching for something.

"I got enough for everyone," Mary greeted, indicating the selection of food on the table, thinking that was what Jinx was looking for.

"Is Marshall not with you?" Jinx finally asked.

Mary shook her head, her mouth full, wondering what Jinx was implying.

"Oh," Jinx sighed, "I wanted to apologise to him about the other night."

She took a seat opposite Mary and they sat in an uncomfortable silence while Mary ate.

"I wanted to apologise to you too. I was out of line. I should never have said that about you sleeping with Marshall. It's really none of my business," Jinx said.

"I'm not sleeping with Marshall," Mary responded automatically.

Jinx looked at Mary dubiously, biting her tongue at Mary's denial, but conveying her scepticism all the same.

Mary put down her fork, bracing her arm on the table as she looked her mom. It dawned on her that her denial would hold a lot more weight if it were true and if her mom hadn't walked in on her and Marshall kissing on her bed.

"Okay, we may have kissed once or twice..." Mary admitted the least she could, but regretted even that when she noticed Jinx attempting to smother a grin. "I don't know what's happening with him," she admitted.

Jinx reached across the table, placing her hand over Mary's. Mary sighed loudly in frustration and gently extracted her hand from under her mom's. She focused on her food so that she missed the hurt look on her mom's face at Mary's rejection of her attempt at comfort. Jinx shuffled uncomfortably and returned to her original subject.

"I spoke to my sponsor yesterday," she said.

Mary continued to pick at her food, saying nothing.

"They warn us," Jinx began again, "when we enter the program, that it's not uncommon to slip during treatment."

Mary huffed, waiting for more excuses to come flying out of her mom's mouth. Jinx regarded her daughter a moment before standing.

"I slipped, Mary, that's all. I haven't given up on getting sober."

"Sure, Mom," Mary said flatly, not wishing to get into an argument.

"I know you don't believe me, Mary, and I can't promise I won't slip again. All I'm asking is for you to give me a chance to prove that I'm serious about this."

Mary sat silently contemplating her mom's words, wondering if it was worth risking putting her trust in her mom when she had been let down by her so many times before. She wondered how many more times she could be let down by the people she loved before she stopped trusting altogether. She knew her problems with relationships mostly steamed from her reluctance to trust people, each time she wanted to commit she held back, scared that she'd be abandoned again. Raphael had proven to her that she'd been right to hesitate and while she was concerned that each abandonment brought her closer to the day she would be too cautious to make that particular jump, apparently, that day wasn't today.

"Okay, Mom," Mary acceded, "what do you need?"

Jinx smiled and grasped Mary's hand again, "Just your faith is enough."

"Do you want some food?" Mary asked, changing the subject before her mom got too emotional.

"Sure," Jinx said, retaking a seat at the table and helping herself to a selection from the containers. Once she had a full plate, she asked, "So, what's going on with you and Marshall?"

Mary didn't answer.

She didn't _have _an answer.

But there was no way she was going to tell her mom that. She rolled her eyes and glared at Jinx until the other woman got the hint and resumed eating her dinner in silence.

xxx

Marshall awoke Sunday morning to find his bed depressingly empty.

As he opened his eyes and regarded the cracks running across his ceiling he couldn't help but compare this morning to that of the day before. The morning before he had been in heaven, or as close to it as he was likely to get; this morning he was in hell. A cold and lonely hell.

He reached over and ran his hand under the shelf of his bedside table where he had taped Ellen's letter out of Mary's prying sight. He loosened it carefully and pulled the piece of paper away from the shelf and held it close to his chest. He didn't open it straight away, just ran his fingers over its creases, its mere presence a comfort.

When its presence was no longer enough, he unfolded it and started reading Ellen's greeting only to be interrupted when his phone rang. He sighed as he grabbed the phone off the night-stand, leaving the letter in its place.

He glanced at the caller ID before answering. Mary.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he chirped.

"Can it, Sunshine," came Mary's terse response.

"What's up?"

He heard Mary sigh over the phone, "Nothing."

"So you just called to wake me up and irritate me?"

"Nooo..."

"Then what?"

"You have to save me!" Mary begged.

Marshall grinned and stretched lazily.

"Please, Marshall, they're driving me crazy!" Mary whined. "Brandi has a new obsession. She's filled the kitchen with ingredients and won't let anyone else in there." Mary dropped her voice to a whisper, "I think she's been possessed by the spirit of Julia Child."

Marshall kept quiet, waiting for her to get to the point.

"And I'm hungry," Mary finally added.

"So, what? You want me to take you out for lunch? Is that what you're saying?"

"Yeah," Mary breathed down the phone at him.

On the other side of town, Mary fiddled nervously with a pen while she waited for his response, Jinx and Brandi listening intently to Mary's side of the conversation.

They had ambushed her over breakfast, demanding to know what was going on with her and Marshall. At some point Jinx had obviously filled Brandi in on what she had seen at Thanksgiving and Brandi, in one of her more insightful moments, had pieced together it together with Mary seeking relationship advice. She had taken this as an open invitation to pry into Mary's life.

Brandi had been unrelenting in her digging for information and Mary had finally caved and told her and Jinx about the meal Marshall had taken her for on Friday night. Brandi and Jinx had immediately declared that the evening was a date, which Mary had tried to deny, saying it was only dinner between friends.

Her mom and her sister had laughed at her naivety and refused to hear any more of Mary's steadily weakening defence. Slowly, they had convinced Mary that her dinner with Marshall might, _just might, _have been a date.

To test the theory, Brandi had suggested Mary call Marshall and invite him out so they could see his response. Mary had refused, dismissing the plan as idiotic and childish. Brandi had wanted to know what was wrong with her idea, but Mary had been unable to explain. Brandi had suggested it was because Mary was scared Marshall would say no and Mary hadn't corrected her. She hadn't wanted to explain that she was hesitating because she was just as worried that Marshall would say yes. She hadn't considered dating Marshall before this morning and she was hazy as to whether or not she wanted to. There was only one way she could see it ending and it wasn't pleasant. She just didn't know if the brief amount of time she would spend with him would be worth loosing him as her friend and partner, as she was bound to do when she ruined everything.

Mary hadn't needed to articulate any of her thoughts as Jinx had backed Mary's refusal, saying it was too soon after Raph had left for Mary to be considering starting another relationship and the subject had been dropped.

As Mary had sipped her morning coffee, she had replayed bits of the evening at the restaurant with Marshall, re-examining it in light of Jinx and Brandi's declaration. She realised that to outsiders it would have looked like a date. The waiters had certainly thought they were a couple and it wasn't the first time that had happened when she and Marshall were out together. She couldn't count how many times a stranger had assumed they were together and couldn't remember when she had stopped correcting them.

She knew Marshall had stopped correcting people, including his sister, a long time ago and had on several occasions actively encouraged their misconceptions. Neither of them cared how they appeared to strangers, it only mattered that they knew the truth. Which lead her to the question 'what if Marshall thought Friday night was a date?' Had she inadvertently gone on a date with Marshall? How could she tell? If she couldn't tell if that was a date, then how many other dates had she unwittingly participated in?

Finally she had agreed to Brandi's idea, simply because she didn't have a better idea and didn't want to be driven crazy wondering which of their many meals together were dates and which were just two friends having dinner together.

And so she had caved and called Marshall.

Brandi's plan had undergone a couple of minor revisions the instant a falsely cheerful Marshall answered. Mary ignored Brandi rolling her eyes at her sister's inability to just ask Marshall out. Mary still had some pride and she refused to give Marshall the opportunity to turn her down.

As she held her breath waiting for Marshall's response, she didn't consider her desire for him to agree to lunch to be anything other than her need to maintain her pride. He seemed to be taking a lifetime to answer.

Finally Marshall spoke, "Okay, I'll pick you up in a couple of hours."

He hung up and dropped the phone on his bed as his mind went into overdrive, analysing each word of his conversation with Mary, looking for subtext and clutching at any sign that she actually wanted to spend time with him and wasn't just searching for an escape route from her house.

His musing carried him into the shower where he got ready on autopilot, to busy contemplating his upcoming lunch with Mary.

Ellen's letter lay on the bedside table, forgotten.


	48. Fencing on Thin Ice

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 48 – Fencing on Thin Ice**

Marshall was confused.

Mary's offer of lunch had been a pleasant surprise, but at some point during the meal he realised she had an agenda. He still wasn't sure what it was, but he did at least know it existed. She had revealed herself unknowingly, her hesitant attitude had sat uncomfortably on her and had betrayed her. She had danced around topics of conversation, never settling on one. He had tried to keep up, matching his wits against hers, all the while trying to find the reason behind her discomfort and link it to the unexpected lunch date.

The resulting conversation had been fragmented, a verbal sparring match as both partners parried and thrust, Mary desperately trying to trick Marshall into telling her if this, or Friday night was a date. Marshall trying to find out what Mary was getting at, knowing a misplaced word or question would shatter the thin ice he was treading on.

When the food arrived and Marshall was given a respite from the rapidly shifting conversation, he couldn't stop his mind from drifting back to the last time Mary had edged so carefully around a subject. He had guessed almost instantly from her heavy-handed questions that she'd been thinking about telling Raph about the job. Her silence had been all that he needed to confirm she'd been more than just thinking about it.

His mind skipped over today's conversation, searching for any question that would tip him off about what was on her mind or whatever it was that she wanted to tell him without actually having to come out and say it. Most of her questions had been random as though she were asking the first thing that came into her mind. That was generally a bad sign. She'd asked things he knew she knew the answers to, mingled with questions he'd never thought he'd hear her ask. Questions about his dating technique, about his first car, about his reaction to his sister's boyfriends, about his mom, about his career goals and about his witnesses. As hard as he tried, he failed to see a connection.

As he considered it more, he slowly realised there was one theme that she kept returning to – one centred around food. Where was his favourite restaurant? Did he cook a proper meal when he was alone? Did he prefer fries or mash? How often did he have desert? Had he been to that particular restaurant before Friday night?

He still couldn't make the intuitive leap that talking to Mary sometimes required. He considered the phone call from earlier, she'd mentioned food and cooking then as well. Was she hoping he'd teach her to cook? That didn't make much sense, Mary was an adequate cook despite her protests to the contrary and a general lack of time and interest. Did she have an eating disorder? Was she planning to cook something for him? Marshall's mind ran from one extreme to another, quickly dismissing them all as ridiculous.

Mary ate in silence as Marshall's mind raced. She too, was analysing the conversation, searching for hints as to what a typical date with Marshall would be like and comparing any details to Friday night. None of his answers to her questions had been overly helpful. She already knew he preferred mash to fries, but would never turn down a fry. Her questions about his first car had provided her with plenty of details about engine capacity and the difficulty of maintaining a twenty year old Impala on a part-time stock boy's wage, but had not given her any details about where he'd taken his high school dates. Similarly, enquiring about his sister's boyfriends had given her plenty of ammunition to use against Ellen next time she saw her, but no idea about what her dates had been like. Nothing he had said had given her any clue as to whether or not Friday night had been a date in his mind.

By the time they had finished eating the lack of answers was frustrating them both, albeit unknown to the other, so it was only natural for Mary to accept Marshall's invite back to his.

xxx

It took her a moment to recognise it.

The last time Mary had seen it, it had been torn in two. Now it was lovingly taped back together. She noticed the grubby edges, recognising that its creases had been traced many times from a similar letter tucked away in her own personal hiding place.

She hesitated before opening it. There was no way she could pretend he'd left the letter lying open on the bed and that she'd just happened to glance at it. Marshall wasn't that careless.

Yet he_ had_ left it on the bed. He knew she wouldn't be able to resist looking at it, so perhaps he intended for her to read it.

She heard him moving about the living room and made a snap decision, grabbing the letter off the bed and reading quickly.

_Dear Marshall,_

_Thanks again for letting me stay with you and Mary. You really are a life saver at times, I don't know what I'd do without you._

_I'm sorry that we didn't get chance to talk before I left. I was looking forward to quizzing you about Mary without her there. You two seem to be inseparable which is great but doesn't help when I want to gossip or have a serious conversation. And I do feel we need to talk about her, hence this letter. You are obviously in love but I have to ask - is that enough? Don't get me wrong, I like her, I really do, but as your sister it's my duty to worry about you. Are you sure you're doing the right thing? As much as I liked Mary, I don't like you being with a woman who has already cheated on you and hurt you. I'm concerned she might do it again. I'm concerned you might push her to do it again. I know what you're like._

_I know you worry about getting hurt too, which is why I feel I can say this to you – It's time to let Gemma go. I'm sorry to remind..._

"What you doing, Mare?" Marshall asked from the doorway.

Mary jumped, aborting her attempt to stuff the letter in her pocket to hide it before she could damage the paper.

"I found this," she said when she realised the time to be surreptitious had passed.

Marshall's eyes flicked to the letter in her hand and for an instant there was a spark of anger in them, but it was quickly replaced with an air of resigned amusement as he gestured for her to continue.

"Why does Ellen think you'd drive a woman into being unfaithful to you?" she asked, struggling to recall the details of the cover story they had concocted to explain Raph's drunken accusations of infidelity.

Marshall shifted uncomfortably in the doorway and shrugged.

"'I'm concerned she might do it again. I'm concerned you might push her to do it again. I know what you're like,'" Mary read. "What are you like? How would you push someone into cheating on you?"

Marshall walked slowly into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Gemma..." he began but stopped to take a deep breath. "Gemma never loved me. I thought she did, I know I loved her, but she never loved me," he paused again.

Mary sat on the bed next to him, waiting for him to continue.

"Three years we were together and it was all a sham. The entire time she was seeing someone else. She used me. She knew how I felt about her and she used me anyway. I was her cover, I was the one she could take to her parents and introduce to her friends as her boyfriend, but he was the one she loved. And I never knew until right at the end. She told me she loved me, but I'll never know if that was true.

"When she finally told me about him, she said that she had started seeing me purely as a cover but she had learnt to love me. By that point, I didn't know what to believe. I still don't. We stayed together a while after she told me. I naively thought I could win her over, that all those years together had to count for something. I never told her I gave up the WITSEC opportunity to be with her. So much for my romantic sacrifice," he said with a wry smile.

He paused and Mary took the opportunity to ask, "Why did she need a cover?"

"He was a married Congressman so she could never be seen with him," Marshall explained. "When it finally came out in the papers that he was having an affair, his marriage dissolved and Gemma didn't need me for cover anymore. That's when she told me."

They sat in silence, Marshall reflecting on the past while Mary's gaze returned to the letter that remained in her hand.

Mary shook her head suddenly, "Still, you didn't drive her to it. It's not your fault she was a manipulative bitch."

"Yeah, I suppose," Marshall said, although it was obvious he didn't believe her.

Mary let his comment slide, reassuring people of self evident truths was never her strong point, and she returned to reading the letter.

_I know you worry about getting hurt too, which is why I feel I can say this to you – It's time to let Gemma go. I'm sorry to remind you about her but unless someone tells you to get over her, she'll always hang around your neck and you'll sabotage any real relationship because of a might-have-been._

_It's time to step up, Bro, if you feel this is the one. Stop holding back. Stop giving up what you want just because you're scared of getting hurt again. Show her how you love her, don't hold back from her. You'll only push her away. Again, I suspect._

_Just once, I'd like to see you fight for what you want, to hold on to what you have rather than letting it slip away because you think that's what someone else wants._

Mary reached the tear in the paper and recognised the portion of the letter Marshall had shown her. She re-read it anyway, considering the words in light of what she had just learnt.

_And if it all goes horribly wrong, then I'll still be there for you. You still prefer brunettes for meaningless sex, right? I'll make sure I have some suitable women lined up for you...After all, what's family for?_

_Speaking of family, are you planning on going home for Christmas? If I can get the time off, I think I will, unless this afternoon goes badly or you ask me not to...I'd like to see you either way so we should arrange something. _

_Give me a call to arrange something or just if you need anything._

_Love, as always,_

_Ellen._

Mary contemplated the whole letter.

"Ellen's right," she said finally, breaking the silence.

Marshall looked up, puzzled.

"Well, she's wrong about you driving Gemma away, but the rest is right. You do need to get over Gemma and put yourself first for a change. You need to move on and...how did she put it?" Mary looked at the letter again, "'Fight for what you want...rather than letting it slip away because you think that's what someone else wants.' You need to stop doing that."

"I'm working on it," Marshall said with a grin that made Mary wonder if she was missing something.


	49. The French Revelation

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 49 – The French Revelation**

When Mary and Marshall arrived in the WITSEC office Monday morning, the conference room was full of people milling around. The sight made them pause. Most witness families were fairly small in number, the largest family they'd relocated had been six and it had been easy to see the family dynamic when four of the six were kids.

The group in the conference room was much less transparent and it was obviously causing Stan a headache. He sat in his usual seat, head in hand as the group spoke around him. Mary and Marshall could see one man gesturing vigorously, occasionally at the small boy sat quietly at the table, while another obviously tried to reassure him. Several others listened to the conversation the two men where having, but seemed disinclined to join the conversation unless directly addressed.

"What's going on, Eleanor?" Mary asked.

The other woman just shook her head, "I'll get Stan."

Eleanor walked over to the conference room and tapped on the glass. Stan looked up and followed her gesture toward Mary and Marshall. He quickly excused himself, looking relieved, and joined them in the outer office.

"Stan? What's up?" Marshall enquired.

Stan held up the file in his hand, "New witnesses, who wants them?"

Neither Mary nor Marshall looked keen to take the file and accept responsibility for the seven people, six of whom were watching them. Only the kid seemed disinterested, staring at the table in front of him.

"They're _all _entering the program?" Marshall asked.

"No," Stan sighed glancing over his shoulder, "Just the mom, dad and kid. And maybe the translator."

"Translator?" Mary jumped in.

"Yeah, unless either of you speak French?"

"Oui, bien sur," Marshall said in a terrible accent.

Mary rolled her eyes and ignored her partner, "So, who are all the others?"

Stan stole another glance over his shoulder, "The guy in the Armani suit is from the State Department," he said.

"Armani? Jesus, I can't even spell Armani, let alone afford it. We're in the wrong branch of government, Marshall," Mary muttered, causing her partner to chuckle.

Stan ignored them both and continued, "The weaselly guy hanging on his every word is also from State, he's acting as interpreter, the blond woman is an administrator at Los Alamos and you know Cliff from the DoJ."

Mary finally reached for the file and opened it, "What did they do to end up here?"

"And why the Los Alamos rep?" Marshall added.

"The dad's some big-shot French politician. He's over here on a fact finding mission that includes a tour of the labs there. He and his family were having breakfast in a diner in Santa Fe this morning, when a guy came in and shot two people as he tried to rob the diner. Fortunately, the local PD caught him as he tried to make his get away. The DA's putting together a case, but until then the Delcroix's are all yours."

"So, they're at risk from whom exactly?" Marshall asked as he extracted the file from Mary's hand.

"Well, the robber could have had an accomplice," Stan told him, "But witness protection has been extended as a courtesy to prevent a diplomatic incident."

"So, they're not actually entering the program?" Mary clarified.

"No."

"So, we're just babysitting? Jesus, Stan, can't you get someone else to do this?" Mary asked, thinking of all the work she already had to do this morning. She didn't need to be babysitting some politico, a job any US Marshal would be more than qualified for.

"Technically, yes, I could. But I owe Cliff a favour and he wants the best, so you two are on it."

"What about Darren?" Marshall asked, glancing up from the sparse file.

"What about him?" Stan shrugged.

"We're supposed to be transferring him this week."

"Not anymore, you're not," Stan said nonchalantly, knowing his inspectors were used to plans changing at short notice.

As Stan expected, Marshall just nodded his acknowledgement and went back to reading the file. Once he was satisfied he was familiar with the contents of the folder he made eye contact with Mary to signal his readiness to enter the room. She had been observing the occupants of the room and how they interacted, her observations coupled with Marshall's quick memorisation of the background information provided meant they had all they needed for the moment to take on this new task.

Marshall lead the way into the conference room.

"Bonjour," he greeted cheerfully, knowing without looking that Mary was shooting daggers at his back.

xxx

The morning passed quickly for Mary as she found herself involved in paperwork, making plans, re-making plans and listening to Marshall trying to speak French.

Every time Marshall spoke, Mary could see the dad cringe which caused her no end of amusement until she noticed the State Department assigned translator snickering at her partner's attempts. That was enough to stop her laughter and make her glare menacingly at the man; she was the only one allowed to laugh at her partner.

The meeting went on until the afternoon, with Mary and Marshall slipping out from time to time to deal with issues as they arose. Marshall spent a while cancelling the plans he'd made for Darren's transfer while Mary ran a couple of threat assessments for the Delcroix's. Mary was glad for the reprieve the paperwork gave her. She wasn't the most patient person when it came to decisions being made by a large group. She didn't see the need for each aspect to be discussed ad infinitum when it was obvious to her what the outcome should be.

Much to her further disgust the Los Alamos administrator, Dr Emily Hulse, seemed to be very impressed by Marshall's linguistic abilities, not to mention by Marshall himself. Whenever the opportunity arose, she would ask Marshall something and, like a teenage girl, would hang on every word of his response. Dr Hulse's pointless interjections were only serving to prolong the decision making process and were wearing on Mary's nerves.

The main problem centred around the fact that Denise Delcroix wanted to cut the visit short and go home to France. Her desire was understandable as her son was obviously upset by the events of the day; he hadn't said a word since he arrived and hadn't made eye contact with anyone. Mary kept trying to include him, having been assured that he spoke English, but met with no success.

Jean-Michel Delcroix was concerned with his son's wellbeing, but didn't want to cut the trip short. He maintained that Jacques would be fine, that he was in shock, but it would wear off shortly and then they'd regret going home. This issue required a lot of discussion in very rapid French which allowed Mary to complete her paperwork while she waited for her opinion on the security situation to be sought. Denise finally agreed to her husband's wishes, but insisted on having a full complement of marshals with them at all times. Stan signed off on this after a quick chat with Cliff and dumped the logistics of arranging a full security detail for the remainder of the Delcroix's stay into Mary and Marshall's laps.

Finally they decided they'd each take charge of a security detail and cover the Delcroix's in shifts at their hotel. This plan seemed to satisfy everyone until Dr Hulse had to stick her nose in once again and enquire whether the planned tour of the Los Alamos lab would still go ahead. This set everyone talking again and discussing the feasibility of the scheduled visit. Mary stayed out of the conversation after being shot a dirty look from Marshall who was quick to reassure the party that the risk associated with such a visit was minimal and that he'd personally supervise the trip. Mary had to roll her eyes at his eagerness, she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been wanting to visit the restricted lab since he moved to New Mexico.

Mary scoffed, earning her another dirty look from Marshall, as Dr Hulse expressed her keenness for the visit to go ahead, which had only increased when she learnt of Marshall's intention to join the group. Mary made a mental note to accompany Marshall when he went to the lab. No way was she going to leave that woman alone with Marshall to let her get her claws into him.

Not on her watch. Not with her Marshall.


	50. Without You

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 50 – Without You  
**

Tuesday afternoon saw Mary stomping through the WITSEC office on her way to relieve Marshall of his post.

It was only the second day of providing protection for the Delcroix's and she already wanted to kill someone. She and Marshall had had to split up and accept temporary partners for this assignment. State and the DoJ had pulled out all the stops and insisted that one or other of them was present to supervise the detail at all times. This meant that they were operating on a shift system of six hours on and six hours off. It wasn't the first time they'd had to work with other people since they'd been partnered together, but it had been so long since it had last happened that Mary had forgotten what a pain in the ass it was. In her more benevolent moments she recognised the request for the best protection available, which meant her and Marshall, was flattering, at least it was when it wasn't just plain irritating.

It was her second shift with Mike and already she had resolved to do whatever she could to ensure she and Marshall weren't split up again any time soon, if ever. She vaguely remembered making a similar pledge last time she was given a temporary partner and some of her efforts in the following months to punish those responsible. Obviously someone, somewhere needed a refresher course on why they shouldn't be split up. She smiled evilly as she contemplated new ways to make her displeasure known to the nameless, interchangeable suits of the DoJ and Marshal Service.

There was nothing wrong with Mike, per se, but he wasn't Marshall and Mary was already sick of having to explain things to him. Things that Marshall would know, that he would see needed doing and just do them. People often thought she took advantage of Marshall and made him do the lions share of the work, but they were wrong. Her pride meant she always pulled her weight, but the practised division of work and Marshall's implicit trust in her meant it didn't need discussion so it seemed to outsiders that he did more than his fair share. Mike on the other hand, was new to the Marshal Service and renowned for his sharp eyes more than his initiative.

Sharp eyes were all well and good when on the look out for potential threats on transfers, but they weren't high on Mary's list of priorities for a protective detail that included an arguing couple, a miserly translator and an eleven year old boy who was still in shock.

xxx

Marshall drove slowly back to the WITSEC office. He dropped James, his temporary partner, at the Courthouse and used the remaining time to prioritise the tasks he had to perform before returning to the hotel and the Delcroix family.

When he walked through the doors he saw Stan and Eleanor engrossed in something at her desk. He greeted them cheerfully, grateful to have some one to talk to after spending six hours with the monosyllabic James. His greeting caused them to spring apart and Stan to scurry into his office. Marshall watched him go with a knowing smile on his face and resolved that his tasks could wait a few minutes.

He entered Stan's office, closed the door and made himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

"Stan, Stan, my man," he chanted.

"What do you want?" Stan asked impatiently as he shuffled some papers on his desk. Couldn't Marshall see he was busy?

"Want? Why do I have to want anything? We never just talk anymore, Stan," Marshall pointed out.

Looking up, Stan replied, "We've never 'just talked', Marshall."

"Hmm...you may have a point," Marshall conceded. "Still, I'm here for you if you ever need someone to talk to...You know, about problems at work, problems at home, women," he offered, "...all of the above..."

"Is this your not so subtle way of asking what's going on between me and Eleanor?"

"Hmmm...Well, since you bring her up...?"

Stan sighed, tempted to share what was on his mind, but knowing Eleanor would kill him if he did, deflected, "Do I ask about you and Mary?"

Marshall looked dumbstruck for an instant, "Right you are, Chief," he said as he stood and left the room hastily.

xxx

Marshall had warned her at the change over that Jacques was still in shock and that his parent's yelling had got worse. She assumed that they were still arguing about taking Jacques home to France, but as her French was somewhere between non-existent and very bad, she could only guess.

Her temporary partner, Mike, with emphasis on the temporary, was useless. He was of the opinion that it was their job to guard them against external threats and that was it. No matter that the family was not-so-quietly imploding and may end up killing each other. That wasn't in his job description so it wasn't his problem.

After hearing the argument escalate so that it could be heard clearly in the main room of the suite, allowing Mary to pick out two of the three words of French she knew, profanities each of them, she decided to intervene.

"Hey! Hey!" she yelled as she burst into the bedroom. Mike trailed listlessly after her.

"Enough already!" she yelled. She turned to face Denise, "What exactly is the problem?"

"I want to go home," Denise said before switching back to French and directing the rest of her complaint toward her husband.

Mary sighed and left the room, returning quickly with Ralph, the translator. He looked back at her blankly until she pointed at the quarrelling couple and hissed, "Do your job."

"Umm...She's saying that he always puts his work first. He cares more about the stupid plane than his own son." Ralph turned to Mary and whispered, "Now she's insulting his manhood."

Mary rolled her eyes as Jean-Michel started pacing and yelling at his wife. She nudged Ralph again to refocus his attention.

"He's saying something about a plane and national security. He's probably talking about the plane we're here to see, it's a high-tech plane that can detect toxins and chemicals in the atmosphere. It's can fly right into a hurricane," he told her excitedly, obviously having memorised some promotional literature in preparation for his task.

"Don't care!" Mary snapped. "What's he saying now?"

"Something about 'why should he care about Jacques more than everyone else's children?' I didn't catch the beginning," Ralph told her quietly as the argument ended suddenly with the unmistakable sound of a palm hitting a cheek.

Denise stormed out of the room, pushing past Mary, Ralph and Mike loitering near the doorway and leaving a stunned Jean-Michel staring after her in pain and confusion. Mary looked at Mike, intending to catch his eye and signal for him to go after Denise while she dealt with her insensitive husband. Mike, however, was staring after Denise as well and oblivious to his partner's needs.

"Mike!" Mary called and nodded in Denise's direction when she had his attention.

Mike stared back at her blankly. She sighed loudly. Was she surrounded by idiots?

"Can you go check on her?" Mary asked after taking a deep breath and counting to three.

"Why?" he asked, confused.

"Just do it," she growled through clenched teeth.

Mike left, still puzzled as to why he was now involved in a domestic dispute.

"Mr Delcroix," Mary began as she noticed blood dripping onto his collar, "Are you okay?"

She moved toward him and gestured for him to move his hand so she could see how badly he was hurt. He sat on the edge of the bed and Mary turned his head toward the light from the window. He had a slight cut on his check that was bleeding badly despite its shallowness. Denise had obviously caught him with one of her rings. Mary got a cold, wet face cloth from the bathroom and offered it to him. He held it to his cheek and looked toward the door Denise had just left through.

"She doesn't understand how important this trip is," Jean-Michel muttered.

"She's just worried about Jacques," Mary told him.

"I know," he sighed. "I just can't make her understand..."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"Non, non. I will talk to her again," he said.

He left the room and Mary collapsed onto the bed, resting her head in her hands. She heard Ralph leave the room and enjoyed the peace for a moment. Her moment didn't last nearly long enough as it was interrupted by the sound of raised voices from Jacques' room.

Mary sighed heavily as she made her way into the other room. She passed Mike and Ralph sitting, chatting on the sofa and doing their best to ignore the situation in the other bedroom. Mary cursed under her breath, knowing she'd be going into this fight alone and wishing Marshall was with her.

The scene that greeted her was one that she was familiar with. She may not remember much about her dad being home, but the arguments were hard to forget. Her eyes were drawn to Jacques. He still hadn't spoken or made eye contact with anyone which was the main cause of Denise's desire to go home.

She leant against the door frame, hoping for a solution to present itself. Once again she found herself wishing for Marshall's reassuring presence and maybe even one of his moronic stories if it would get through to the couple.

Mary hugged herself tightly, frustrated by her inability to stop them fighting. She cast around for something she could fix and her eyes landed on Jacques again. She watched him play with a toy cowboy as his parents argued over his head. As she watched him play, an idea began to form.

xxx

Marshall completed his security sweep and let himself back into the main room.

The feel of the earpiece and sporadic background chatter were familiar to him. He'd been back on duty for two hours and was bored. The threat assessments he and Mary had performed on the Delcroix family had shown them to be at little risk yet he was still vigilant. As he stood looking out the window of the eighth floor suite, he ran through the games and challenges he had developed years ago to alleviate the boredom of standing watch. He posed a series of 'what if' questions and looked for their answers. What if someone came in through this door? What if James, outside the door, radioed in something suspicious? What if they needed to make a quick exit? When he got bored of that he changed his perspective. What if he were a sniper, where would he position himself? What if he were on foot, where would he enter? What if Mary were there, what would he do?

His thoughts were interrupted by someone tugging on his sleeve. He looked down to see Jacques looking up at him.

"Are you really a cowboy?" Jacques asked in heavily accented English.

Marshall smiled, recognising the hand of Mary in getting the boy to speak.

"Have you heard of Wyatt Earp?" Marshall asked.

The boy nodded eagerly.

"I'm his great-grandson," Marshall lied.

Jacques looked at Marshall in awe. Marshall led him over to the sofa and sat him down.

"Did you know that Wyatt Earp was a US Marshal?" Marshall began, "Just like me. You know, he and Doc Holiday stopped here in Albuquerque. This was the last place his posse was together. When they left here, they all went their separate ways."

Marshall spent a large portion of the rest of his shift talking to Jacques, telling him the tales from the wild west that he remembered from his own childhood.


	51. Divide and Conquer

**AN: **I've spent so much time on the LANL website researching this chapter, I'm probably on some government watch list now. Emily Hulse is a figment of my imagination, but the technical stuff is as accurate as I could make it.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 51 – Divide and Conquer**

They hadn't even reached the half way point in their journey to Los Alamos when Mary snapped.

Mr and Mrs Delcroix hadn't stopped fighting since Mary and Marshall had been assigned to them. Both she and Marshall had tried reasoning with them, sitting down with each of them individually, and as a couple, and talking. They'd tried everything they knew to no avail. Now Mary was at the end of her tether and she'd been seriously considering shooting one or both of them. The only reason she hadn't was that she didn't want to get stuck with the kid. There was only one thing she hadn't tried. Something she saved for last.

"Will you two stop it!" she yelled. "Jesus, it's like having two six-year-olds in the back. Jacques is the best behaved of the lot of you."

"Mare," Marshall warned, more out of habit than with any real heat.

"No, Marshall, this has gone on long enough," Mary said.

Marshall said nothing, choosing to concentrate on driving.

Mary turned in her seat and pinned Denise with a steely glare, "Denise, you need to accept the fact that you're not going home for a few days. And until then, if Jean-Michel needs to work then he needs to work. You must have known how important his work was to him when you married him."

Mary's frustration at the other woman was evident in her voice. It was an argument that she had been hearing in English for too long from Raphael and she'd spent the last two days listening to it in French. She was so familiar with it she no longer needed a translator to tell her what Denise was saying to her husband.

Mary noticed Jean-Michel smirking at her and Denise, obviously pleased that Mary was siding with him.

The smirk didn't last long as Mary rounded on him, "What are you so smug about? Some father you are! You need to spend more time with you family when you get home and put your son first for a change!"

Denise and Jean-Michel both looked ashamed as Ralph translated Mary's words. Jean-Michel muttered an apology in Mary's direction which only served to irritate her more.

"Don't apologise to me!" she growled, "Apologise to your family," she turned back to the front, muttering, "Jackass."

Marshall shot her a smile as she folded her arms across her chest and stared out the windshield. He couldn't make out what was said in the back of the SUV, but the rest of the journey proceeded much more pleasantly.

xxx

Dr Emily Hulse was frustrated. In more ways than one.

She had been trying to get the tall Marshal to notice her all morning. So far she had succeeded in catching his eye and smiling at him a couple of times but that was it. He'd returned her smile, but she couldn't tell if that was just his natural friendliness shining through or if he was interested in her. What she really needed to do was get him alone so that she could talk to him.

Unfortunately neither her job nor his seemed to allow for that possibility at the moment. She was stuck showing Mr Delcroix and his sulky wife around.

As she introduced them to the chief engineer on the ASPECT project, she noticed Marshall staring at her. She shot him her best seductive smile and sauntered over while Mr Delcroix questioned the engineers.

"So, are you impressed with our little facility?" she asked.

Marshall smiled at the petite blonde woman next to him. She wasn't what he'd expected from a scientist in charge of such a prestigious complex. She was softly spoken and pleasant, but Marshall suspected she was also capable of being very focused and driven for her to be in such a position of authority. Her questions in the meeting on Monday had shown him she had an inquisitive mind and he found himself drawn to her despite Mary's presence.

"It certainly deserves it's status as a historic landmark. I can't think of many places that have had such an impact on the course of human history," Marshall said.

Dr Hulse looked impressed. While the lab's role in the development of nuclear weapons had been included in her introductory talk, the fact the site was a historic landmark hadn't been mentioned.

"You seem to know more than most about the place," she gestured vaguely to the aircraft hanger they were in.

Marshall ignored the insinuated question an returned one of his own, "I read that you had a group working on an AIDS vaccine here."

"That's right. We're hoping to move forward with the phase I clinical trials soon. It's taken us a long time to get there, but..."

"Is there any chance we could see the supercomputers you used to model the virus?" Marshall enquired.

Dr Hulse glanced around to see how the visit was progressing. "I don't think we'll have time," she said as she saw Mr Delcroix engrossed in a conversation with three engineers, one of which was pointing at one of the FT-IR sensors attached to the body of the plane. "I might be able to arrange a private tour."

Marshall had been watching Mr Delcroix as well, but turned back to Dr Hulse when he felt her hand resting lightly on his forearm. He caught sight of Mary out the corner of his eye. She had frozen mid-sentence when she'd seen Dr Hulse touch Marshall and hadn't recovered her from her shock quickly enough to avoid being noticed by Marshall. He, however, wasn't sure what that particular look signified.

"Umm...Sure. I'd like to see it, certainly," he temporized. "Can I bring my tax returns? I feel I'm gonna need a supercomputer for them this year," he joked, badly.

Dr Hulse chuckled, "I don't think any of our computers are _that _good. Maybe if we link them all together..." she mused.

Marshall smiled, relived that she had got his slightly geeky joke and was rewarded with a vibrant smile in return.

xxx

Mary walked into the WITSEC office with her usual purposeful stride. She slowed slightly when she spotted Eleanor looking out the window, but didn't stop until she reached her desk. She put her bag down and picked up the phone. Within a minute she'd arranged for the use of one of the service's cars. Hers had failed to start and Marshall was on duty so unavailable to take her home. She'd been surprised to find that she was looking forward to going home tonight, for a change. Between Marshall and his scientist whore, the Delcroix's constant arguing and the irritation that was her current partner, her house had become her refuge from work rather than the other way around.

Eleanor's reverie had been disturbed by Mary's voice. She had turned to find she was no longer alone in the office as she listened to Mary arrange to borrow a car for the next few days. She watched Mary hang up.

"How was the lab visit?" she asked.

"Fine," Mary replied abruptly. She looked up at Eleanor, "It was fine, very educational."

Eleanor could hear the undercurrent in her tone and decided to probe, wanting a distraction herself.

"Huh. Is that so?"

Mary's eyes narrowed as she detected that Eleanor knew more than she did.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it have been?"

"No reason," Eleanor said innocently, "That's what Marshall told me, too." She watched Mary's reaction to Marshall's name being mentioned carefully. "Almost word for word, in fact."

Mary stilled, "What else did he say?"

"Nothing. Which is unusual for Marshall, don't you think? I would have thought he'd be spouting off details about the visit to anyone that would listen. Did something happen there?"

"No."

"Oh. I just wondered if there was a development with a certain bet..." Eleanor suggested, "Maybe involving an administrator for LANL?"

Mary glared at her, knowing she'd been rumbled.

"I may have let it be known that Marshall was off limits," Mary admitting grudgingly.

Eleanor smirked in triumph and pulled up a chair next to Mary's desk, indicating for Mary to tell her all. Mary sighed, knowing she wasn't going to get away without telling Eleanor the whole story. She sat behind her desk and reached into the bottom drawer. She pulled out her whiskey and two glasses, pouring each of them a shot before continuing.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Mary began, "She was just so obvious. She kept looking at him and smiling at him. It was sickening, all that simpering. So I took the first opportunity I could to drop his wife and womanising ways into conversation. She backed off quickly enough after that." Mary downed her shot and sat back looking pleased with herself.

"Was Marshall mad?" Eleanor asked as she sipped her drink slowly.

Mary's mood darken, "He didn't talk to me for two hours." She poured herself another drink. "We'll be okay," she announced quietly.

Eleanor sat regarding her quietly. She knew that Marshall dated, she'd been in the office when he'd come back from the aborted date with Shelley. He would occasionally share details of his dates with her, even as Mary studiously ignored any talk of his love life. She hadn't heard either of them mention a time when Mary had deliberately sabotaged a date of his. So she was wondering what had caused Mary to behave so selfishly today. Well, other than the obvious.

"So, this had nothing to do with the bet, then?" Eleanor enquired as she pushed her glass toward Mary for a refill.

"What bet?"

"I heard you and Marshall had a bet going, saying that you wouldn't be able to pass as his wife."

"Fiancée," Mary corrected without thinking.

"So, it's true then?"

Mary swallowed the remains of her drink and regarded the empty glass a moment before asking, "How do you know about our bet?"

Eleanor shrugged, "I have my ways."

Mary was too tired to push the subject. Eleanor had dirt on half the FBI, it seemed, so she wasn't overly surprised that she knew about the bet. That stupid bet. That had to be why...

"So why did you do it then, if not as part of the bet?" Eleanor interrupted her train of thought, unwittingly echoing the question running through her mind.

"I don't know," Mary admitted after a long moment contemplating the empty glass again. "I just don't know."

They sat in silence for a while. Eleanor sipping her drink slowly as she watched Mary wrestle with her conscience.


	52. Burning the Campbell at Both Ends

**AN: **Thanks to Roar526 for her help with this chapter and the last.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 52 – Burning the Campbell at Both Ends**

Marshall shut his front door behind him and made his way down the hall in the dark. He flipped on the light as he entered the living room and surveyed the mess that greeted him. As soon as he sat on the sofa he realised his mistake; there was no way he'd want to move again tonight.

He'd been on duty since six that morning and it was now sometime after midnight. The monotony of the protective detail routine had been alleviated by the trip to LANL, but that had presented it's own set of issues that he didn't want to think about just now. He didn't _want_ to think about it, yet once his mind was set on that path he couldn't turn it aside.

_She_ had told Emily Hulse that he was married. She had deliberately sabotaged a potential date of his. She'd never done that before. It had to mean something, right? It was that thought that had allowed him to forgive Mary for her vindictive act. Eventually.

Despite the fact he'd recently resolved to go after what he wanted as per Ellen's advice, Emily had been attractive and intelligent and hadn't made him feel like he was a complete geek. He'd been tempted, even to the point of accepting the date. But in the end, Mary's intervention had allowed him to back out of the impulsively arranged date and given him further hope for a future with Mary.

He hadn't talked to Mary for a couple of hours after he found out about his supposed wife and kids. He knew she'd read his silence as anger and he hadn't corrected her. In truth he'd been too confused to be angry and if his silence taught her that she shouldn't, couldn't, treat him that way then so much the better.

He glanced at the clock.

1.12 am.

He'd lost another chunk of time contemplating this new development and now he had to be back on duty in 4 hours 48 minutes. It hardly seemed worth going to bed so he just stretched out on the sofa and allowed his eyes to drift closed.

xxx

Marshall's eyes raked the room he had just let himself into. He was searching for Mary, but also checking that the room was secure. He could hear the faint sound of yelling coming from the main bedroom followed by what could only be Mary's voice.

He made his way over and stuck his head into the room. The movement drew Mary's attention and she joined him in the suite's main room.

"Where's Campbell?" Marshall asked, concerned.

"Who?"

"Campbell," Marshall reiterated, but only received a blank look from Mary. "Mike Campbell. Your temp. partner. You've been working with him for three days, Mare," he said reprovingly.

"Oh, him," Mary huffed.

"Yeah, him. Where is he?"

"Outside, in the corridor."

"No. He's not," Marshall bit.

Mary stared at him in disbelief before turning sharply on her heel, stalking to the door and peering out into the empty corridor.

She closed the door with a thud that covered her profanity.

"Where the hell is he?" she asked.

Marshall just smiled as she finally caught up. She whipped the Blackberry off her belt and dialled Stan's number not caring that it was 6 am. Marshall left her to it and completed his own security sweep of the suite while Mary talked to Stan.

Marshall found a weary looking Ralph coming out of his bedroom and wondered if he looked as rough. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror as he checked the room for unauthorised people confirmed his suspicions. The few hours sleep he had managed to get hadn't made a dent in the bags under his eyes, rapidly garnered since the weekend. As he re-entered the main room he heard raised voices once more. Mary had had the sense to move into the corridor to find out what had happened to Campbell, but Mr and Mrs Delcroix were less considerate as they had relocated their fight into the main room.

"Can we get breakfast?" Denise Delcroix stopped shouting at her husband long enough to ask.

"Not yet," Marshall informed them.

Jean-Michel was instantly alert. He'd picked up the strain in Marshall's voice even if his wife hadn't.

"What is wrong?"

"We have a small problem," Marshall said as he drew Mr Delcroix aside.

"What problem?"

"We're taking care of it. There's nothing for you to worry about. I just need you to stay here for a while and hold off on breakfast until we can clear it," Marshall explained.

Jean-Michel nodded his understanding and returned to his wife's side, their fight temporarily on hold. Marshall excused himself and joined Mary in the corridor.

"What did Stan say?" he asked quietly.

"He's got no idea where his is. He wasn't reassigned, at least. Stan's sending some backup."

"How do you want to play it?"

Mary considered the options, "Does this feel like a hit to you?"

Marshall shook his head, "Why wait 'til now? We were much more vulnerable yesterday. And why take out Campbell then not make an attempt on the witnesses?"

"That's what I was wondering," Mary agreed.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors opening. They both held their breath and found their hands drifting toward their weapons as the doors pulled back to reveal James Ross, Marshall's temporary partner. They both relaxed as he approached them.

"Problem?" Ross asked as he saw the expression on their faces.

"Did you see Campbell on your sweep?" Marshall asked.

Ross shook his head, never one to use words unnecessarily.

"He wasn't at his post when I got here this morning," Marshall filled him in.

Ross accepted the information unflinchingly and cut to the chase, "Where do you want me?"

xxx

Campbell was eventually located, asleep, on the fifth floor.

Marshall's partner, James Ross, was the one to find him and he dragged him back up to the eighth floor where Mary and Marshall were supervising the increased security detail and the search for Campbell. The relief they felt at discovering he was alright was short lived and Mary was soon laying in to him for deserting his post. For once Marshall let her give full reign to her anger, the potentially disastrous 'what if's in his mind meant he was not feeling charitable enough to hold her back.

He left her to it, sure that anything he had to add would be drowned out by Mary. He took charge of calling off the teams searching the rest of the hotel, but left the increased security until he could perform a threat assessment.

Until he could get to the office, the threat assessment would have to wait. He glanced around the room, checking for tasks left undone and his eyes fell on Jacques Delcroix playing quietly with his toy cowboy again. Marshall had spent the journey to Los Alamos painting a picture of the wild west for him using his knowledge of the region's history. Jacques had asked the occasional question, but it appeared he was a naturally quiet child as he was more than happy to listen in silence as Ralph translated Marshall's tales. As Marshall once again caught the sound of Jacques' parents quarrelling he thought that it was unsurprising that Jacques was so quiet.

The couple seemed to argue about anything. Now they were on their new favourite topic; Jean-Michel's job and the fact it had put them in danger. Over the few days Marshall had known them, the supposed level of danger had ranged from witnessing an event that would traumatise Jacques for life, to almost getting all three of them killed depending on Denise's mood. Marshall had managed to stop them arguing for a while while they searched for Campbell, but Denise's worried tears had soon run dry, leaving her scared and frustrated and the only outlet for her emotions was shouting at her husband.

Mary had finished a similar venting at Campbell's expense and had sent him back to the court house thoroughly chastened. Now she was searching for Marshall.

She found him in the corridor.

He'd escaped there on the pretext of guarding the door, filling the post abandoned by Campbell, but actually just wanting to escape the renewed arguing that had surfaced in the suite. Mary couldn't blame him.

"I need to go to the office to sort out this mess," she said, "Do you need anything when I come back?"

"You can't take the next shift, Mare. When was the last time you slept?" he asked before she could object.

It took Mary a moment to think of the answer and her hesitation betrayed her.

"You didn't sleep before you came on duty, did you?" Marshall surmised.

Mary shrugged sulkily, "It didn't seem worth it," she said as she recalled that she'd spent over an hour in the office, talking to Eleanor when she'd come off her previous shift. The rest of her 'down time' she'd just wasted, knowing it would take her ages to get to sleep and unsure if she'd then be able to rouse herself in time for the midnight start of her next shift. She hadn't been planning to tell Marshall any of that, yet he seemed to know most of it anyway.

"How about, you go find partner capable of watching your back for six hours..." Marshall started but stopped when Mary huffed and mumbled something he didn't catch. "What was that?"

"I said, 'I've got a capable partner', I don't want to trust anyone else with my purse, let alone my life!"

"Me neither," Marshall quietly told the carpet. He looked up to see Mary studying the wall. Marshall cleared his throat, breaking the moment, and continued, "But it's only for a couple more days and it's not exactly a high risk assignment, Mare."

"That's not the point!"

"I know," he sighed. "Just find someone that isn't a complete rookie, knows how to shot straight and can stay awake for six hours. I trust you to take care of the rest."

Mary was somewhat pacified by the compliment and allowed Marshall to continue uninterrupted.

He outlined more of his plan, "Once you've done that and got Stan to sign off on it, dump your paperwork on Eleanor and go get some sleep. I'll cover things here and you can relieve me this evening."

"You want to pull a double shift with Sid and Nancy in there?"

Marshall raised his eyebrows at Mary's pop culture reference.

"What? I listen to music!" she claimed.

"Duly noted," Marshall smiled. "And here was me thinking you'd spent your free time last night researching pop trivia just so you could make that reference."

"I didn't, but I'm sure if I had, it would have been more fun than whatever you did last night, Doofus."

"At least I got some sleep. I won't ask what you were doing instead," he said, hiding his curiosity as to why she hadn't taken the opportunity to sleep when given it.

Mary crossed her arms across her chest ignoring his barely concealed question and considering his offer to swap shifts with her.

"Okay," she relented. "I'll chase up the DoJ while I'm at the office, see if we can't offload Kurt and Courtney onto someone else before we kill them, ourselves."

"It's funny you should mention killing them as both of those relationships ended in death, although it was never proven that Sid Vicious killed Nancy Spungen despite his confession that he 'stabbed her but didn't mean to kill her' which I've always found strange. I mean, why else would you stab someone?" Marshall affected a British accent learnt from Mary Poppins, "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Honour, I didn't mean to kill her, I was just tickling her with this knife..."

"Maybe he just wanted to shut her up," Mary suggested with a pointed look in Marshall's direction before returning to the suite to gather her coat and bag.


	53. Under Orders

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 53 – Under Orders**

"Just get over it!" Marshall yelled, slamming the bedroom door behind him, just as Stan and Mary walked through the main door to the hotel suite.

Stan regarded Marshall as if he had grown a new head. Although a two headed Marshall would have surprised Stan less than one that was shouting at a witness.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Fine," Marshall snapped.

Stan looked to Mary who had followed him in, she just shrugged and continued checking her Blackberry.

"Okay, what's going on here?"

Marshall sighed. "They're still arguing," he said, indicating the bedroom where raised voices could once more be heard through the closed door.

"And that makes it okay to shout at a witness?" Stan asked.

Marshall looked abashed, but Mary jumped into the conversation before Marshall had chance to answer.

"Oh, come on Stan! They've been arguing since Monday. Yelling at them is the only thing that'll shut them up."

Stan considered Mary's point.

He'd only come to the hotel to deal with the fall out from this morning's screw up, but looking at his two Marshals properly for the first time in a couple of days, he was glad that he'd taken the time to visit. The strain was beginning to show around Marshall's eyes and in Mary's slumped posture. Four days of six hours on, six hours off had left them sleep deprived and their tempers short. Six hours wasn't long enough to properly relax and recover from the six hours of vigilance and constant tension. Not when they had other duties that needed attending to in those six hours. Tasks like taking care of their other witnesses and arranging security for the LANL visit. Yesterday's LANL visit had sapped what remained of their energy reserves as neither Mary nor Marshall had felt confident that they could adequately protect the Delcroix family with their temporary partners. As a result Stan had agreed to let their partners have most of the day off while Mary and Marshall escorted the family. Unfortunately this had lead to each of them being on duty for 18 hours straight, not an uncommon scenario for either of them, but tiring when combined with their current shift system.

"Okay, home both of you," Stan announced, shocking both the Marshals.

"But it's _my_ shift..." Mary pointed out.

"Not as of now. I'm taking over the next two shifts. Both of you go home, go to bed and come back fresh in the morning," Stan told them.

There was a moments silence as they regarded Stan, measuring his level of seriousness. Marshall was the first to move, it was the end of his shift anyway and he was happy to follow Stan's instruction. He grabbed his coat, checked his badge and gun and disappeared out the hotel suite. He was leaning on the wall at the end of the corridor, waiting for the elevator, when he heard Mary.

"Hey, can you give me a ride home?" she called.

"Sure," he agreed.

xxx

Marshall nursed his scotch quietly as Mary paced up and down his living room. Of the two of them she was the more rested and was expressing her excess energy in her measured steps and sharp turns. All of which was giving Marshall a headache.

"Mare, will you sit down?"

Mary perched next to him on the edge of the sofa and he could feel the waves of tension radiating off her.

"I hope he gets fired!" she continued, without pause, on the same topic that had followed them from the hotel.

Well, the topic that had followed Mary from the hotel as she continued to vent about the danger and downright stupidity of her partner falling asleep while on duty. Marshall, on the other hand, hadn't said much on the drive, not even asking Mary if she wanted to go back to his place, just pointing his truck in that direction and driving. Mary hadn't commented on his chosen destination, too busy discussing that morning's screw up, something she was still waxing lyrical on.

"I mean, who the hell sneaks off for a nap while on protective detail?"

"No one that deserves a Marshal's badge," Marshall agreed as he took another sip of his drink.

"Damn straight!" Mary exclaimed as she fell back further into the sofa, relaxing now Marshall had vindicated her opinion.

Marshall's arm rested across the back of the sofa and Mary's movement brought her within the span of his arm. She removed the glass from his hand and emptied it with one gulp. She handed the glass back to him and he placed it on the sidetable so he could refill it without moving his other arm. He handed the refilled glass back to her and she hitched her legs up onto the sofa as she accepted it from him. Marshall tilted his head back against the back of the sofa as she moved closer to him. He stared at the ceiling until he felt the cold glass being pushed into his hand. He accepted it and drained the contents, allowing his arm to slip from the back of the sofa to around Mary's shoulders as he did so. She leant into him and he felt her relax some more.

"It's nice, isn't it?" she asked him.

"Mmmm..." he agreed sleepily.

They sat quietly together.

"What's nice?" Marshall asked after a moment.

"The quiet. There's no shouting," she pointed out.

"Oh. That."

"What did you think I meant?"

"You know. This," he replied, gesturing between them.

"Oh."

Mary rubbed her hand across her forehead then attempted to ease the tension in the back of her neck. Marshall noticed her movement.

"Here," he said, turning Mary so her back was toward him.

He started to gently massage her neck and after a couple of seconds Mary repositioned herself so he had greater access to her neck and shoulders. Marshall's fingers worked expertly at the knots in her muscles. She soon felt the tension lift and a sense of peace settle over her. As she relaxed Marshall's hands turned from kneading to caressing, wandering from her neck to her shoulders, then up and down her arms.

She closed her eyes to saviour the touch.

"I believe Stan told us to go to bed," Marshall whispered in her ear.

Mary's eyes flicked open and she glanced at the clock.

"It's not even eight o'clock, Marshall," she pointed out, "It's too early to sleep."

Marshall swept her long hair off her shoulders and draped it over her right shoulder. He placed a gentle kiss on the left side of her neck and slid his arms around her. Mary murmured something incoherent as Marshall continued kissing her neck, working his way up to her jawline.

"Mmmm...True, but I've never disobeyed a direct order and I'm sure we could find something else to do," he muttered against her neck as he continued kissing and nibbling his way up and down it.

He let one of his hands slip under the hem of her top and he caressed her stomach to further entice her.

Mary considered his words, but not for long.

"I've missed you," she told him as she turned in his arms so that she could kiss him.

The kiss was passionate from the moment their lips met. Mary's forceful nature being expressed in that kiss as it was in everything she did. Marshall didn't have the energy to fight her and allowed her to take the lead even if it was him that whispered, "Let's go to bed, Mare."

She was off his lap in an instant, holding out a hand to him to provide the momentum to get up off the sofa. He followed her down the hall, a tired yet happy smile on his face.

Once in the bedroom, Marshall didn't have time to think before Mary was shoving him onto the bed. He collapsed backwards and Mary quickly moved to straddle him. She bent her head to kiss him deeply and desperately, but hesitated a moment when she realised he wasn't kissing her as enthusiastically as she was kissing him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she found herself asking.

"Of course," he replied in a lazy drawl.

She looked disbelievingly at him, forcing him to expand his answer.

"I'm tired," was as much of an explanation as he could muster.

That was all it took to remind Mary of the events of the day and a good look at his face told her that Marshall probably hadn't had more than a few hours sleep in the last 48 hours.

"We don't have to do this now, if you don't want to," she offered.

"I always want to do this with you, Mare," he smiled as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, "Just slow down a bit so I can keep up."

Mary grinned at him, her voracious desire for him shining in her eyes although it was no as longer evident in her actions as she bent to kiss him again. She kissed him slowly, lovingly and with enough slow burning passion to ignite a block of ice.

Marshall responded in kind, letting her escalate the tempo slightly as they felt his body react. Mary slid her hands across Marshall's chest only once before deciding the material of his shirt wasn't what she really wanted to be touching. She unbuttoned his shirt quickly while Marshall ran his hands through her hair, holding it out of her way when she needed to look at what she was doing. The shirt was soon pushed aside as Mary's eager hands explored his chest. Marshall sat up, kissing her all the while as she slid the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms.

He pulled her close to his chest, relishing the feel of her in his arms while her nails raked up and down his bare back. He slipped his hands under the back of her top and caressed her soft skin with his thumbs. He allowed his hand to roam higher, gathering her top as he did so. Finally he had to break the kiss to enable him to pull the top over her head. He tossed it aside quickly so he could return his hands to Mary.

He trailed them up her sides until he reached her breasts, running his thumbs over the material of her bra before cupping her breasts gently in his palms. His hands continued their journey up to her shoulders where he grasped her firmly and pulled her back with him as he laid back on the bed. Mary followed him eagerly.

**AN:** Thanks again to Roar526 for bolstering my confidence in my moments of self doubt about this chapter. There will be a continuation of this scene for those of you that are interested. I'll post it with the other extended scene so keep your eyes open for it.


	54. Benefits of the Job

**AN: **The extended scene has been posted as the second chapter in _Albuquerque, we have an extended scene. _I recommend reading it before you read this chapter if you are old enough to do so. If you're not, or you don't want to read it for some other reason, you won't be missing any plot development that isn't covered in the main story.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 54 – Benefits of the Job**

Marshall woke to the sound of an alarm he didn't recall setting.

Movement behind him reminded him he was not alone. A cold draft against his back told him Mary was searching for her Blackberry, discarded last night along with her jeans. He smiled as the image of her standing naked before him drifted across his mind, but quickly sobered as he remembered other details of their act.

He turned to face her, finding her laying on her back, Blackberry held aloft as she checked her messages. He let his hand snake across her stomach.

"Morning," she said, attention still on the device.

"Mare," he began softly, wanting to have a conversation with her, but struggling with how to broach the topic on his mind.

"That was Stan," she said, oblivious to his dilemma, "reminding me that one of us has to be on duty in an hour."

"Okay," Marshall said, pausing for breath before diving in, "Mare, last night...we, ummm...we, ummm..."

Mary stopped looking at her phone to fix him with a piercing stare, "We what?"

"We didn't use protection," he said hurriedly.

Mary shrugged and returned her attention to the Blackberry, relieved that this wasn't going to be about feelings or some other nonsense.

"Aren't you worried about getting pregnant?" he asked.

"I'm on the pill," she told him.

"That's not the only reason to use a condom, Mare," he pointed out.

Mary glanced at him and shrugged once more, "I trust you," she said, knowing he would never put her at risk to something as preventable as an STD.

Marshall considered what she was saying and realised her implicit trust in him was a mirror of his. He let the subject drop. It wasn't the conversation he wanted to be having and hearing her explicitly state her trust in him, something that had always been there but had never been referred to, on top of last night's admission that she had missed him over the last few days, raised too many questions in his mind about her feelings for him.

"Do you want me to take the first shift so you can go home and change?" Marshall offered. "Or should we flip for it?" he added when he got no response.

"I've got a better way of deciding who's first," Mary said with a seductive smile. She hopped out of bed and strolled toward the bathroom. She leant in the doorway and looked back at Marshall.

"I'm going to take a shower," she told the puzzled man. "Do you want to join me?"

xxx

Stan had taken another shift guarding the Delcroix family.

He hadn't wanted to after the previous 12 hours he'd spent with them. They'd been asleep for eight of the twelve hours he'd been on duty, but the remaining four hours had given him a unique insight into what had lead Marshall to yell at them.

He'd ended up agreeing to swapping with Mary; she could be persuasive when she wanted to be and just scary the rest of the time. When he'd arrived shortly after the midday shift change with the news that they'd got the okay from the DoJ for the family to return home, she'd insisted on making the travel arrangements. As they were technically her witnesses, Stan had let her and agreed to take over her shift so he'd be out of earshot when Mary and Eleanor started antagonising each other.

In the end, that had proven to be a mistake.

He found himself longing for Mary and Eleanor's playful bickering which always held evidence of the grudging respect the two women shared as easily as they shared the secrets he didn't want to be included in. Denise and Jean-Michel's bickering, on the other hand, had taken on a decidedly nasty tone that afternoon that had him retreating to guard the corridor.

As another French profanity drifted through the heavy double doors of the suite, Stan passed a weary hand across his forehead and silently pleaded with the Gods of Aviation that Mary would be able to arrange their transfer soon.

xxx

Mary slammed the phone down and rested her head in her hands. Her hair fell forward, forming a curtain that walled her off from the world.

"How's that threat assessment coming?" she asked Marshall from behind her protective barrier.

She heard his rustling movement as he left his chair and made his way to the coffee pot.

"No luck?" he asked.

Mary didn't bother to reply, just huffed so that her hair lifted slightly.

"I've only just started it," Marshall answered her original question as he placed a peace offering of coffee next to her elbow. She looked up at the sound.

"What the hell have you been doing for the last hour?"

"I don't know, Mare, there may have been some paperwork left over from yesterday's little snafu."

"You told me to dump it on Eleanor," Mary said with a shrug, "Is it my fault you're her whipping boy?"

Marshall shot her an unimpressed look and returned to his computer, wondering whether it would be worth going slow just to irritate her more or if he would pay for it later. One glance at her told him it was the latter.

She was unusually stressed today considering she'd gotten a full night's sleep the night before and 'de-stressed' with him in the shower this morning. Even Eleanor had commented on Mary's short temper before she had left for lunch.

Marshall wondered what could have caused the shift of mood from the teasing one this morning that had her suggesting whoever came first would 'win' the first shift with the Delcroix'. Despite his desire to please her, for her own sake and to avoid the family for as long as possible, he had lost, although not by much.

He had dropped Mary at her house before heading over to the hotel to collect his prize. On the way over, she had told him that she'd been planning to get Brandi to drive her to the garage to collect her supposedly fixed car. He knew that thanks to a screw up by the garage it had been a wasted trip, but that alone wasn't enough to explain the tension in her posture, however, maybe Brandi's presence was.

He decided to put off the threat assessment and wandered over to Mary. She was engrossed in what was on her computer screen and so didn't give Marshall, standing behind her, much thought.

Until, that is, she felt his hands on her shoulders.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she yelped.

"What? You enjoyed it last night," he said, referring to the massage he had given her and had been intending to repeat.

"Are you retarded? We're at work, you dumbass!"

Marshall was perplexed, "So it's okay at home, but not at work?"

Marshall took her sullen silence as agreement.

"Duly noted," he said as he returned to his desk.

Mary stared at her screen, no longer seeing the words.

After a while she broke the silence, saying slowly, "You know that last night was only because I had hardly seen you all week, don't you?"

"So you decided you wanted to see me all weak," Marshall said before he could engage his brain.

Mary glared at him, "I'm serious here, Marshall."

Marshall sobered quickly; this was the conversation he'd been waiting for.

"So, what, then? What is this to you?" he cut to the chase.

Mary thought for a long time, not having the right words to describe how she felt about the entire situation. She thought back to the previous night, her mind focusing initially on the moment they'd shared on the couch before turning to the passion they'd shared in bed. She found herself wanting to repeat the experience. And sooner rather than later.

But even with all the possible benefits being in a relationship with Marshall would bring, she couldn't shake the memory of her abandonment by Raph. The prospect of loosing Marshall in the same way loomed large in her mind and caused a pain in her chest that made her breath hitch.

She looked at Marshall, patiently waiting for her response. As she studied him, an idea formed. Perhaps there was a way to have the best of both worlds and maintain the status quo. She just needed to take a chance and offer him something.

She began hesitantly, sounding out the words slowly and watching for Marshall's reaction.

"This is two friends taking care of each other and each other's...needs," she finished with a slight grimace at the word 'needs'.

"Friends with benefits?" Marshall clarified.

Mary nodded slowly, "Yeah. Are you okay with that?"

Marshall was still and silent for so long that Mary wondered if he had heard the question. Then another, more disturbing, thought entered her mind: what if he was trying to find a way to turn her down?

She turned back to her screen, wanting to save them both the embarrassment of a rejection. The movement seemed to break Marshall out of his trance.

"I think I could live with that," he finally replied, calmly ignoring the twinge of pain in his own chest. He knew she felt something more for him, he'd seen it in the way she looked at him last night, and he wanted to believe that she'd admit it eventually.

Mary felt a wave of relief sweep over her. Her mood shifted from the funk she'd been in since the phone call she'd received that morning to almost jubilant. A change so rapid and extreme even she noticed it and couldn't attribute to anything other than Marshall's acceptance of her offer. She pushed her observation to the back of her mind, resolving to think about it later. Right now, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to tease her partner and lay down some ground rules.

"Okay then. But that's all it is," she warned him with mock sternness, "I don't want you getting all emotional and going all girly-boy on me."

Her tone was mocking and there was a glimmer of playfulness in her eye as she finished. Any fool could see she was joking. But Marshall knew her better than she knew herself and he saw something deeper, darker, in her that told him she wasn't entirely joking.

"Ah, many a true word is spoken in jest," he replied, calling her out and cursing himself for not being able to stick to his resolution to take what was being offered and be grateful for it.

She shrugged and looked away, embarrassed that it had taken him pointing out the truth in her words for her to see it and wondering what sort of person they made her. No wonder Raph had left her; she had made the same demand of him although she had never stated it quite as bluntly as she just had to Marshall. She silently cursed her dad. She knew where her insecurities stemmed from, she just didn't know how to overcome them and was starting to wonder if she would ever be capable of loving someone the way she should.

As she often did, she hid her hurt and doubts in anger.

She stood up suddenly, flicking her hair back over her shoulder sharply. "Well, if you can't agree to something simple like that," she tailed off, shrugging to indicate her ambivalence at the arrangement.

Marshall stared at her calmly, ignoring her tone and addressing her implicit question, "It's not reasonable to ask someone to control their emotions, Mare, only their actions are under their conscious control."

"Well, _act_ like you don't care, then!" she snapped, unthinking.

Marshall visibly blanched at her words.

"Is that what you really want, Mare?" he asked gently.

"Yes!" she said, defiantly looking him in the eye, daring him to challenge her.

She said it with such conviction that Marshall was astonished but didn't question her.

Once again, Marshall found himself at a point in his life where he faced a decision as to whether to put his needs before those of a loved one or not. Did he agree to her demand, give her what she wanted and continue sleeping with her even though he'd know it meant nothing to her? Or did he deny her, and him, physical comfort in the hope that one day he would have the full partnership with her that he desired?


	55. The Declaration of Interdependance

**AN:** Thanks to Roar526 for reading several early versions of this chapter and letting me bounce ideas off her.

* * *

_Previously on _Albuquerque, we have a problem_:_

_Once again, Marshall found himself at a point in his life where he faced a decision as to whether to put his needs before those of a loved one or not. Did he agree to her demand, give her what she wanted and continue sleeping with her even though he'd know it meant nothing to her? Or did he deny her, and him, physical comfort in the hope that one day he would have the full partnership with her that he desired?_

_Now:_

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 55 – The Declaration of Inter-dependence**

Marshall considered his options carefully. He could see Mary getting more anxious the longer he took to respond, but he didn't want to rush such a momentous decision.

"I can't do that, Mare," he finally said, "I can't promise not to get emotionally involved, I already am. We've been partners for four years and friends for nearly as long. I already love you and you can't ask me to stop."

As he said that he loved her she peered at him, examining his words and tone for any hidden meaning. She knew their partnership was one of the strongest in the Marshal Service and that he loved her as a friend, but hearing him say it seemed strangely familiar and very comforting. He'd told her he loved her after she'd announced her engagement to Raph, and then, as now, the words had settled in her heart and given her a measure of peace in a tumultuous time. But now, unlike then, she found herself wondering if he was talking about more than just their friendship.

"You know that, normally, I'd give you whatever you need. But I can't pretend not to care. I can't do that. If you want this to be about satisfying physical needs, that's fine, I can promise that I won't force you into anything more or even mention my feelings if you don't want me to. But, Mary, the very fact it's referred to as _friends_ with benefits means that I'm emotionally involved," Marshall finished.

Mary sat quietly, considering his words. She found herself regretting her outburst. Why did she constantly have to push people away? And why was Marshall the only one that remained despite her best efforts to keep him at arm's length?

"Okay," she nodded.

She returned to the travel arrangements she was supposed to be making for the Delcroix's when another thought occurred to her.

"What is this to you?" she enquired, genuinely interested as to where he saw them heading.

"I thought we'd just established that. It's physical and nothing more."

Mary tried again, "What do you want it to be?"

Marshall put down his coffee mug with a controlled thud on the desk as he tried to think of a way of not answering the question.

"Tell me," Mary insisted, recognising the look on his face as one of evasion.

Marshall smiled sadly at her, "I want more than you're willing to give."

"How do you know what I'm willing to give?" she asked, hating being told what to do.

"I know you, Mare."

Mary didn't push him. She didn't _actually_ want to push him away and asking him for more details about what he wanted from her risked rupturing their tentative agreement. Not that she needed to ask what he wanted, he'd made it perfectly clear. There wasn't much she would be hesitant about giving him, but she was living the phrase 'once bitten, twice shy'.

"Even if I wanted to, I don't know if I could," Mary admitted quietly, still thinking of Raph and this morning's phone call.

Marshall turned away, disappointed that she would never feel for him what he felt for her. He occupied himself with the filing cabinet behind his desk and almost didn't catch her next words.

"But I can try."

xxx

Eleanor noticed Marshall's almost euphoric mood as soon as she returned from lunch. The fact that he was waltzing around the office while filing kind of gave it away. As she came through the doors, he caught her up and spun her around, depositing her at her desk before waltzing into the conference room. Mary was sitting with her feet on her desk, watching Marshall with a smile.

"So, what's got him all excited?" she asked with a wink in Mary's direction.

Mary laughed, "Marshall got laid this morning."

"Really? So, why your sudden good mood?" Eleanor asked Mary, surprised by the apparent one-eighty Mary's mood had taken in the short time she had been out of the office, "Did you get laid too?"

Mary spluttered and reached for the phone, suddenly determined to make the travel arrangements she'd been tasked with. Eleanor noticed the prevarication and turned to Marshall who was looking back at her with a wide smile.

'Oh, yeah. They've definitely done it,' Eleanor thought.

She took her seat as Mary dialled.

Several minutes later Mary hung up.

"Hey, Lover-boy," she called across to Marshall, "I've got us a flight tonight."

"Really? That soon?" Marshall asked.

"Do you really want to take another shift in the Second Circle of Hell?" Mary flung back.

"It's interesting that you should pick the Second Circle of Hell, which in Dante's allegorical poem represents lust. The souls of the lustful are supposedly tormented by an unrelenting wind which tears at them and represents the wandering and changeable nature of those affected by lust. Perhaps a better choice would have been the Fifth Circle, wherein the sin of wrath is punished or the Seventh Circle where..."

Eleanor never found out which sin was contained in the Seventh Circle as Marshall was drowned out by the sound of Mary beating her head against her desk. She stopped when Marshall fell silent, and looked up.

"Do you want to hear about this flight or not?" she asked rhetorically. "There's a JPATS flight leaving for a DC pick up that don't mind taking us."

"JPATS?" Marshall queried, "Any chance that refers to something other than the prisoner transportation arm of the Marshal Service?"

"No," Mary replied, managing to squeeze her surprise and contempt at Marshall asking such an obvious question, into one word.

Marshall shifted, plainly uncomfortable, "Okay, but book me on as Marshal Miller."

Both Eleanor and Mary looked puzzled at his request.

"Why?" Mary asked after exchanging a look with Eleanor to decide which of them would ask.

"Because I asked you to?" he suggested.

Mary still wasn't convinced.

"Just do it, Mare. Don't read too much into it," he said with a finality that had Mary reaching for the phone to call back the scheduler at JPATS.

xxx

Mary sat on the edge of her bed, the engagement ring from Raph in her hand. She studied it intently, turning it over in her hands, examining it from every angle. She should have been packing an overnight bag for her trip, but she'd been distracted when she'd caught sight of the ring laying on the nightstand.

As she regarded it, the rage that had consumed her all morning and well into the afternoon returned. She had the overwhelming desire to throw it back in Raph's face again, metaphorically this time, as he was no longer in throwing distance.

Marshall had of course noticed her bad mood but hadn't questioned the cause. Instead, he had distracted her from her anger with his attempt to clarify their arrangement which had taken all of her focus. The anxiety she had felt waiting for him to respond to her demands had shocked and confused her and when he hadn't just given in, but actually countered with his own request she'd been thrown and had agreed without giving it too much thought. Any residual anger had been washed away in the light of Marshall's good mood. She knew she had agreed to something with Marshall but she still wasn't sure exactly what. Whatever it was had made him very happy, though and she hadn't wanted to burst his bubble.

She turned the ring over again, searching for any angle from which it looked less obtrusive. She failed to find one.

She slid it onto her finger and twisted her hand this way and that.

She still couldn't believe Raphael's audacity in asking for it back and at that moment she would have been more than happy to never see the thing again.

The ring symbolised the things she wanted in life; stability, unconditional love and a promise that she would never be alone. Yet, even as it embodied these things, it also served to remind her of all the things that were wrong with her life. Wearing it had become a chore, something she had to make a conscious effort to remember. It had felt heavy on her hand, weighing her down at inappropriate times.

As another facet of the diamond caught her attention, she realised that the ring didn't just symbolise her hopes for her future, but it was also intimately tied to the moment her relationships with Raphael and Marshall had changed.

Raph's ill-conceived proposal had changed everything in their relationship, but not in any of the ways Raph had hoped it would. She knew he had wanted her to be more receptive to his plans of moving in together and becoming a family. She had tried the best she could, not wanting to disappoint him and secretly desiring the security he offered, but at every turn she had felt rushed, pushed into a situation before she was ready. Every time he pushed her, she pushed back until she had pushed him away entirely.

Her relationship with Marshall had been shifting slowly ever since he had reached into her pocket to retrieve the damn ring and thrust it onto her finger. The week they had spent posing as a engaged couple for Ellen's benefit, had allowed her new insight into Marshall's family and his life before Albuquerque which had deepened their friendship. The sex they had had that week had been just that; sex. She had been horny and he had satisfied her need, as he had given so many people what they wanted in precedence to his own needs or desires. She hadn't understood that at the time or how deep this character trait of Marshall's ran, she was only beginning to glimpse the surface of it now.

In the weeks since Ellen had left, the need to pretend they were engaged had ceased to exist and yet she and Marshall had ended up spending more time together anyway, especially after Raph had left. She had sought the solace of his company which had lead to another encounter in his bed. That had been about satisfying Marshall's drunken desire, but even then he had made sure she hadn't been left wanting before lapsing into his alcohol induced slumber.

The last few days, which they had mostly spent apart, had really driven home to Mary how much she enjoyed Marshall's company. She had found herself missing him and wanting to tell him so. She had found words inadequate so had shown him in the only way she knew, with her body. Last night had been tender and loving and she had found herself enjoying that aspect of it more than she had ever thought possible. When Marshall had said that he wanted more, she had agreed to try in the heat of the moment.

Now, as she sat contemplating the twists her life had taken since she had first laid eyes of the ring glistening on her finger, she found herself less angry and more willing to remember the happy memories associated with it. As she reminisced, she found that all the good recollections were tied in someway to Marshall. The hug he had given her when she had told him about the engagement, the fake proposal she had concocted when Ellen had asked, the nights spent in Marshall's bed as his fiancée.

But it wasn't just recent memories of Marshall that brought a smile to her face. She recalled all the times he had been there for her as a friend. The times she had relied on him, the times she had taken him for granted, his solid quiet presence always there for her whether she needed it or not. She wondered what her life would be like if he wasn't in it. She could think of several occasions it would have been cut short, terminated before it's time if not for Marshall. Even if she didn't count the moments of great importance that Marshall had influenced, he had improved her life in so many other ways that she couldn't even begin to list them.

She took the ring off her finger, slowly, now less willing to give it up. Despite all it's negative connotations, there were still some happy memories associated with it.

But mostly it was just a symbol of yet another failed relationship. Any good memories were drowned out by her recent failure and her inability to let Raph in, driving him away without ever knowing how. She was so scared of finding that he'd been driven away by one of her many character flaws that she hadn't even gone to see him to ask why he was leaving her. She kind of hoped that he knew about her sleeping with Marshall and that was why he had left. If it had been because of that, that was something she could avoid doing again, after all, what had Marshall said? The only thing a person could control was their actions. But if he'd left because of her personality, then what hope was there for her? How would she ever find, and keep, the love and stability she desired?

As doubt after doubt assailed her, she found herself reaching for her phone and dialling Marshall's number, unable to stop her tears as she did so.

"I can't do it, Marshall. I can't risk loosing you. You're too important to me," she sobbed.

"Mare? What's wrong?" Marshall asked, too concerned at the tears in her voice to take in her words.

"I'm so sorry, Marshall. I just can't do it," she said again.

"Where are you?"

"Home."

"I'll be right there," he said hanging up.

xxx

Marshall sped through the night.

He was desperate to reach Mary before all his hopes and dreams died.

He pulled into her drive and ran up the steps, letting himself in when he reached the house.

He found her in her bedroom as expected, her phone on the floor, eyes rimmed red, surrounded by letters on top of which lay her engagement ring.

He noticed it all but focused solely on Mary.

He knelt on the floor in front of her and reached out a hand to clasp one of hers.

"Mare?" he whispered. "What happened? Talk to me."


	56. Marshall Mann Vs Marshal Miller

**Spoilers for _Stan by Me, A Fine Meth, A Frond In Need _and _Who's Bugging Mary. _**Just in case there are people reading who haven't seen the show.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 56 – Marshall Mann versus Marshal Miller**

The drive back to Marshall's was conducted at a much more sedate pace than the drive to Mary's.

Marshall didn't feel the need to rush now that he had Mary next to him. She sat in the passenger's seat, hugging the travel bag on her lap, as she silently stared out the window at the oh-so-familiar scenery.

She hadn't said much since breaking down and revealing all her fears and doubts to Marshall.

Marshall hadn't said much either, although he was far from quiet. His mind was raging. He silently cursed Raphael with every invective he knew and allowed himself the small pleasure of an internal debate as to whether Raph would be better suited to the Eighth Circle of Hell (with the panderers, seducers and the fraudulent ones) or the Ninth and deepest circle, reserved for the traitors and betrayers.

How dare he ask for the ring back? Did he not know how fragile Mary was after his departure? How could he not know? Marshall would know, even if it was him that was 2500 miles away, he'd still know Mary and what she was feeling, he was sure of it. So the idea that Raph didn't know what he was doing when he called her to ask for the ring back never occurred to Marshall. And that sort of forethought and knowledge had to condemn him to the eighth circle, at least, as an act of knowing, deliberate evil. The fact he had betrayed Mary's trust and friendship was a whole other matter.

His quiet ruminations occupied him for the entire journey to his house, where he left Mary in the car as he ran inside to pick up the overnight bag he'd been in the process of packing when Mary had called.

He made his way back to the car a couple of minutes later and found a much more alert Mary waiting for him. The time alone had given her chance to regroup and assume the put-together Mary Shepard persona that he knew would be accompanying his Marshal Miller as they returned the Delcroix family to DC as the first leg of their homeward journey.

xxx

They reached Oklahoma City shortly after midnight and checked in to a hotel near the airport to wait for the early morning JPATS flight to DC.

Marshall couldn't sleep, despite the late hour.

He sat staring out the hotel room window, half listening to the quiet chatter of Jean-Michael and Denise who for once weren't arguing. After a few minutes he realised that the conversation had ceased and he turned toward them in time to see Jean-Michael kiss Denise very tenderly and stroke her cheek intimately. Normally, Marshall would have turned away, granting his witnesses their privacy as they shared a loving moment. This time he was so transfixed by the sight, so incongruous from everything he associated with the couple, that he couldn't turn away.

Jean-Michael caught him staring as Denise left the room to get a couple of hours sleep.

He wondered over to Marshall and said, "You are surprised, non?"

"Slightly," Marshall replied with a smile, "You seem to hate each other most of the time."

"Non, I love her more now than I ever have," Jean-Michael said as he took a seat next to Marshall. "We argue, we shout, we fight but we also love and when we fight, we fight for us."

He looked in the direction his wife had left.

"You have no woman to fight for?" he asked Marshall.

Marshall said nothing, choosing to gaze out the window.

Jean-Michael took the hint, he stood and placed a hand on Marshall's shoulder, "Ah, I hope you find someone worth fighting for...and with."

He left Marshall alone, choosing to seek out his wife for one final kiss before she fell asleep.

Marshall considered Jean-Michael's words. He had found someone worth fighting for, the problem was she didn't want to fight for him. He didn't know how to combat that. He thought about all the affection that had been plain to see in the Delcroix' kiss and how he wanted that sort of companionship. Like Jean-Michael, he wouldn't care if the outside world didn't understand the relationship, he already didn't care about the looks and questions he got when Mary did something insane or out of line, _he_ understood and that was all that mattered to him.

His thoughts turned, unbidden, to the letters that had surrounded Mary as she cried, earlier this evening. He hadn't read them, Mary hadn't invited him to, but he had caught a glimpse of the date on one and the signature on another. Her dad had been writing to her for years. Why wasn't he more surprised about that? Perhaps he had known, somehow. He remembered her certainty that her dad would have found a way to tell her if she had another sister. He knew now that Lauren's appearance and that betrayal had cut much deeper than he had initially realised.

He saw Mary in the reflection of the glass, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. He shifted slightly to acknowledge her presence.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked quietly.

"No," he replied.

She came and sat next to him, joining his vigil of the road beneath them and the airport beyond it.

xxx

3 am brought a new sense of purpose and resolve to Marshall.

He had shouted down all his demons and the dissenting voices had been quelled. He had put away his fears and doubts and let his heart overrule his head.

All this could be attributed to one thought.

_If Mary wasn't willing to fight for him, he would have to fight twice as hard for the both of them._

With that resolution, he gained a measure of peace and could focus on making plans.

Nothing and no one was going to sway him from pursuing what he truly wanted, not this time. Not Raphael, not Mary and certainly not himself. No one.

xxx

Mary was watching Marshall closely.

He had said he wasn't mad at her for backing out of her ill-conceived idea to attempt something more with him. It was a nice daydream and she had been swept along on his cloud nine for a while before coming crashing down to reality. Who was she kidding? A relationship was bound to fail. She'd screw up somehow and he'd leave or maybe he'd finally see her for who she really was and decide that she wasn't worth the effort and leave. It was better to nip it in the bud now, before he got hurt.

And he had said he wasn't mad. She had seen the disappointment written on his face when she told him that she couldn't commit to him, but as she had searched his face for anger she found none amid the myriad of other emotions displayed there.

Now, they were on the plane to DC.

The JPATS marshals were happy to have them as passengers on the otherwise empty outbound flight. It gave them someone new to talk to and something to point to as a cost cutting measure the next time the bean counters were looking in their direction.

"Marshall, are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine, thank you, Marshal," he replied, keeping one eye on the nearest JPATS marshal.

Most of them were laughing with Ralph, the translator, and the Delcroix's at the front of the plane, but a few sat talking quietly within earshot of Mary and Marshall.

Marshall had been edgy and exceptionally formal throughout the flight. He had referred to her as Marshal Shepard to the other marshals and introduced himself as Marshal Miller. She hadn't been surprised at that as he had asked to be booked onto the flight under his assumed name and she had done the same. What did surprise her was the fact he kept addressing her as Marshal.

The JPATS officers looked over at them, puzzled and obviously wondering about the formality just as she was. At first she thought it had to do with the mess of their personal lives but she quickly rejected that as she recalled the short drive to the airport and the calm, friendly Marshall she had shared the car with. That Marshall was the relaxed man she knew and loved and if she hadn't already known about the rejection he had just suffered, she would never have guessed at it. He was a different Marshall from the one she had seen earlier in the evening, sat in the dark staring morosely out of the window. And he was different still from the Marshall that had boarded the plane.

Mary struggled to identify what could be causing the shifts in his personality. The first change she could pinpoint but not identify. They had been sitting silently, half asleep, when she had felt the cloud lift from him. Whatever had caused it was obviously an internal change and she doubted she'd ever find out what it was.

The second change had come as they pulled into the parking lot of the Federal Transfer Center. He'd distanced himself from everyone as he assumed the Marshal Miller persona. He'd been polite and friendly but in such a way as to discourage intimacy and friendship from the other marshals. As Mary re-examined fragments of conversation on the plane, it dawned on her that by addressing her as Marshal every time, he had effectively obscured his first name from their JPATS counterparts.

xxx

"So, what shall we do now?" Mary asked, turning to Marshall once the Delcroix family was out of sight.

They had delivered them safely to the departure gate in time for their flight back to Paris. Now they had several hours to kill before their own return flight, commercial this time, back to Albuquerque this evening.

"Breakfast and I suppose we should report in to HQ," Marshall said as he picked his bag up off the floor.

As they walked toward the exit, Mary asked, "So what was all that about this morning, Marshal Miller?"

"What? I wanted some peace and quiet on the flight. No one wants to talk to the guy that's the stickler for protocol," he explained.

"Sure," Mary said, disbelief evident, "What have you got against the JPATS guys?"

"Nothing, but it occurred to me that they may not like us. It's their job to transport prisoners securely and here we are letting them out, putting all their good work to shame," he said.

"You don't believe that, do you?"

"No, but they might and I didn't want to get into a pissing match. Avoidance was easier."

Mary studied him as they walked. She couldn't fault what he was saying, yet something seemed off. He wasn't lying to her but he wasn't telling her everything either. She filed the information away and made a note to return to it later.

"And what's with the sunny disposition, all of a sudden?" she asked as he held the door for a man with a pushchair.

"I'm always sunny," he replied with a smile.

"No you're not, you're mean and twisted and snarky. You just hide it better than I do," she pointed out as they stepped out into the cold DC weather.

"True, you're not very good a hiding your contempt for others."

Marshall hailed a cab and asked the driver to take them to the Federal Triangle before he looked back at Mary, who was still waiting for an answer to her original question.

"Are you coming?" he called to her, ignoring the pout she gave him as he once again evaded her question about his good mood.

Mary needn't have worried about Marshall's improved mood, as it wasn't to last long. The closer they got to the administrative headquarters of the nation, the quieter Marshall became.


	57. Speak Now, or Forever Hold Your Piece

**AN: **Thanks again to Roar526 for her input. Thanks also to Kathiann who has reviewed almost every chapter (maybe even every chapter) and to those of you who have read every chapter, I hope you will continue to do so.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 57 – Speak Now, or Forever Hold Your Piece **

"So, what's that building over there?" Mary asked as they strolled along the sidewalk careful to avoid any icy patches.

Marshall didn't glance up as he navigated a particularly treacherous patch, "I was only here three years, Mare, I don't know the purpose and history of every single building in the city."

Marshall had finally given in to Mary's demands to show her around his old haunts. They had escaped the confines of the airport several hours ago and headed into the city. They'd spent an hour in the warm, filling in reports for the DoJ and State department regarding the Delcroix's protection. Two more hours had been wasted as Marshall gave Mary a tour of the Federal Triangle. Now they were looking for somewhere to eat lunch, Mary insisting that he must know all the good places as he'd been posted there before joining the WITSEC division.

"What about that one?" Mary asked, pointing at a building that looked important.

Marshall sighed and looked to see which building she was referring to. He hadn't been paying attention to the direction they'd been heading in, allowing Mary to take the lead as he tried not to associate every location with a a memory of Gemma and tried to convince Mary he didn't know every building they passed. Unfortunately, the one that she was currently pointing at was one he knew all too well.

"That's the DC Superior Court," he told her.

Mary waited for him to continue.

"What? No critique of the architectural style? No list of important figures that have passed through its doors? No thesis on events of historical significance?" she asked when it was clear he had said all he was going to say.

"Gemma used to work in there," he told her when it was obvious she wasn't going to let the subject drop. "Third floor," he added pointlessly.

Mary stared at the windows of the third floor as she realised his reticence this morning was caused by memories of a section of his life she knew very little about. And that not all the memories were good ones. She was suddenly aware that she had to be very careful of a misstep here.

Marshall was starting to get angry at her lack of response. How much did she want from him? He cast his gaze around and let it rest on a side door to the building. He nodded in its direction, "Over there is where I was shot at."

Mary looked up at him shocked at the suppressed anger in his voice.

"Is that enough local history for you?" he asked her, "Or do want to see where I got my heart ripped out as well?"

She looked around again, seeing the plaza with new eyes and wondering how to deal with this side of Marshall.

"Not much cover," she assessed, knowing he wouldn't reject a professional compliment, "It can't have been easy to keep the judge safe."

Marshall shook his head and pointed out the low wall he had had the judge shelter behind and the position of the shooter. They then discussed and ran through several tactical scenarios, moving to check lines of sight which drew concerned looks from several passers-by and a brief chat with local law enforcement, as they analysed how Marshall would go about protecting someone now that he had Mary at his back.

"Marshall?"

They were so engrossed in their analysis that neither of them noticed the tall blonde woman approach until she called out Marshall's name.

Mary and Marshall spun to face the woman as one, hands halfway to their weapons as the unexpected salutation cut into the heightened vigilance necessary for the attack simulation.

Marshall stared at her for a long while before relaxing his stance.

"Gemma," he greeted.

"Wow!" Gemma gushed, "I didn't know you were back in town!" She quickly enveloped Marshall in a hug, taking the opportunity to surreptitiously study the woman with him.

Mary remained alert and a couple of paces behind Marshall. As Gemma hugged him, Mary pushed her jacket back off her hip slightly so the other woman could see she was carrying a piece and wouldn't get any ideas.

Gemma released a slightly shocked Marshall from the hug but kept her hands on his shoulders, "Are you back for good? What happened to you? I tried to find you after you left, but nobody knew where you had gone!"

Marshall opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, at a loss for what to say. Mary, seeing his confusion, decided to step in.

"So, you're Gemma," she said reaching out a hand for the woman to shake, mostly so she'd let go of Marshall. "I'm Marshall's partner, Mary," she introduced herself, hoping Gemma would misunderstand the term 'partner'.

Gemma took the offered hand and eyed Mary's gun warily as she said, "It's nice to meet you, Mary. I never got to meet any of Marshall's partners before."

'So much for that idea,' Mary thought as Gemma looped an arm though Marshall's and started questioning him again.

"Are you married?" Gemma asked as she lead him down the road.

Marshall managed to shake his head, still too overwhelmed by emotions to answer.

"Do you remember when we used to go to that Mexican place for lunch?"

This time he nodded.

"It's still there! The daughter is running the place now, but it's still supposed to be good. Do you want to try it out? I haven't been there for years!" she rambled on as she lead Marshall by the arm, leaving Mary to follow.

xxx

They were seated at a table for four in the Mexican place Gemma had led them to. As Mary took her seat, she cast a wary eye over the other patrons of the restaurant. Most of them were in suits, one couple were obviously tourists but none of them appeared to be a threat. She sat herself next to Marshall as Gemma excused herself to the ladies' room. Marshall stared at the tablecloth while Mary continued to size up the crowd uneasily; something was off about them.

The tourists were blissfully unaware of the change in the atmosphere of the restaurant, but the diners in suits seemed remarkably uncomfortable. Slowly the uneasy silence that had attracted Mary's attention was being replaced by hushed voices and pointed looks.

Mary elbowed Marshall, "Hey, pay attention," she whispered.

"Huh? What's up?" he asked quietly, finally being drawn out of the shock of meeting Gemma by the wariness in Mary's voice.

"Something's off here," Mary told him, "I feel like I've just stepped into a scene from _A Fistful Of Dollars_. Do you recognise anyone in here?"

Marshall gazed round the room as if admiring the décor.

"No," he finally said as he turned back to Mary, "I recognise the type though, they all seem to be lawyers or political types. They're very common in DC but it can give you the creeps if you're not used to them gathering in large numbers."

Gemma arrived back at the table as he finished.

"What are we talking about?" she asked as Mary glared at the other patrons, not being entirely mollified by Marshall's explanation.

"The lawyers are giving Mary the heebie-jeebies," Marshall said.

"Yeah, they can do that to a person," Gemma replied quietly, staring at the table as she took her seat.

Mary continued to glance around the room, spotting a couple of people looking in her direction. She noticed whenever she or Gemma glared at someone looking in their direction, they would suddenly become very interested in something else. She decided it was definitely their presence that was attracting attention but couldn't pinpoint the reason why.

Slowly the atmosphere of the room returned to normal and Mary began to relax slightly.

As she relaxed, Mary's attention drifted back to the conversation between Gemma and Marshall. Albeit a one sided conversation as Gemma seemed to be doing most of the talking.

"So, where are you living now?" Gemma asked as she perused the menu.

"New Mexico," Mary replied, distractedly, when Marshall took too long to answer. Her attention was now split between the menu in front of her, Gemma and the rest of the restaurant.

Gemma looked up at Marshall, "New Mexico? Really? What on Earth is there in New Mexico?"

The disdain dripping from Gemma's voice irritated Mary, "There's plenty there," she snapped.

"Huh," Gemma huffed, plainly not convinced but obviously not wanting to get into it with Mary. "So," she continued, changing the subject, "Did your mom ever get that front patch reworked?"

Marshall nodded, finally forced to answer, "Yeah, she finally got round to it a few years ago."

Mary buried her head in her menu. She knew what Gemma was doing; deliberately picking a topic to ensure Mary was left out of the conversation. She bit her lip and restrained herself from making an inappropriate comment about the woman for Marshall's sake.

xxx

The food had arrived and the conversation had abated while they ate. Marshall had alternated between answering Gemma's questions and allowing Mary to take his role in the conversation. Mary had so far prevented herself from saying anything too offensive although with Gemma's constant snide remarks her trigger finger had been getting more and more twitchy.

"So, was the move to New Mexico the best you could get on short notice?" Gemma asked, referring to Marshall's sudden departure from Washington.

Marshall shot Mary a smug glance before responding, "Umm...yeah."

"Have you made Supervisor, yet?"

"No, not yet," Marshall replied, fiddling with his serviette to hide his tight grin.

Mary wasn't nearly as amused as Marshall was about Gemma's assumption that the move to Albuquerque was a step down in the Marshal Service.

"He's an Inspector," Mary informed the other woman.

She felt a sharp pain in her leg where Marshall kicked her under the table. She rubbed her shin and glared at him, receiving only an evil look in response as Marshall silently chastised her for revealing more about his job than she needed to.

"Really?" Gemma asked, not noticing the silent communication going on between the two Marshals. "An inspector? I don't know that title," Gemma muttered, trying to remember if Marshall had ever mentioned it when they had discussed his career.

"It's a specialised position," Mary sidestepped but couldn't resist bragging, "Not many Marshals get to Inspector level."

Gemma looked at Marshall with renewed interest. He avoided her eye.

"Then if you came back to DC permanently, would you be a Supervisor?"

"No, I wouldn't. I don't have enough experience on the investigation side," he explained. "I'm too...specialised."

Gemma deflated slightly on hearing he couldn't just walk into a supervisory role if he came back.

"Why are you so interested in his job title?" Mary asked, suspicious.

"Just wondering about might-have-beens," Gemma replied. "Do you ever regret leaving? I mean you'd be almost at Chief Deputy level now, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose," Marshall admitted, "But I don't regret leaving because I missed out on the promotion."

"But you _do_ regret leaving?" Gemma asked, Mary temporarily forgotten.

"Sometimes I wonder what life would be liked if I had stayed. I wonder if we would have had children and what they'd be like."

"I often wonder that, too," Gemma murmured.

Marshall looked surprised.

"I did love you, Marshall, no matter what else you think about me, I want you to know that," she told him.

Marshall shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you, Marshall," Gemma said quietly.

The three of them sat silently for a moment before Gemma added with a wry smile, "Joni Mitchell was right; you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

Marshall smiled at her, finding he was still amused by Gemma's ability to work song lyrics into any conversation.

Mary rolled her eyes, removed her Blackberry from her belt and began playing with it so she didn't have to watch Marshall fall for Gemma again.

"How are your parents?" Marshall asked, "I saw your Dad got re-elected."

"Yeah, Mom was hoping he'd lose so he could finally retire, but now he's tied to another six years," Gemma said, sipping her drink.

"Your Dad's a Senator?" Mary put in, displaying her rudimentary knowledge of American politics.

"Yeah, the Illustrious Senator for West Virginia is my father," Gemma informed her.

"Is this his third or fourth term?" Marshall asked to cover his surprise, unaccustomed to the bitterness in Gemma's voice as she mentioned her Dad.

"Fourth," Gemma replied with a sigh.

"Are you not getting on with him? You two were always so close," Marshall asked, unable to ignore the hints that all was not right between the two of them.

"We've...ummm...we had a falling out a while ago," she told him.

Marshall raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue.

She shrugged, "It's mostly blown over but..." she tailed off, looking around the restaurant to avoid eye contact with Marshall.

Marshall was ready to drop the subject when Mary surprised him.

"Did it have something to do with your affair with a married Congressman?" she asked with false innocence.

"Mare," Marshall hissed.

"What? I had Eleanor do a quick Google search," she said waving her Blackberry at him. "It's not exactly top secret, it was in every politically active newspaper east of the Mississippi."

"How did I miss that?" Marshall asked himself.

"It was around the time that..." Mary searched for the right phrasing, "...that drug deal was going down," she pointed out, after looking a the date on the article Eleanor had sent her. "We were otherwise occupied."

"Ah," Marshall responded, not needing to ask which drug deal she was referring to and not wanting to be reminded of the events that had followed.

Gemma looked puzzled at Marshall, silently asking him to explain. He ignored her inquisitive expression and allowed Mary to move the subject back to Gemma.

"Was this the same man that you were seeing when you were with Marshall?"

"No," Gemma admitted quietly.

Mary sat back smugly, now sure that Marshall would see through Gemma's act.

"So, how long are you in DC for?" Gemma asked, trying to change the subject.

"Just until tonight," Marshall said.

"Oh," Gemma was obviously disappointed, "Are you sure you can't stay longer?"

"No, we really can't. We're due back at work in the morning," Marshall lied as the following day was their day off.

"I was hoping we could have dinner together," Gemma said with a sidelong glance at Mary that indicated she wasn't included, "We could catch up some more," she said with a wink, hinting at exactly what sort of catching up she wanted to do.

"We're US Marshals, we don't have the luxury of changing our travel arrangements on a whim," Mary said pointedly.

"Well, if that's all that's stopping you staying, I could ask Dad to make a call and get you some leave. I know he wouldn't mind, he'd love to see you, Marshall."

"I bet he would," Marshall mumbled, sarcastically, recalling the incident with the shed.

Gemma continued, rapidly warming to the idea, "If you were planning on coming back on a more permanent basis, he might be able to smooth the way slightly. I know I'd be happy to see more of you..."

"He's not moving back here!" Mary snapped, throwing her napkin on the table as she stood up abruptly.

Marshall and Gemma looked at her, aghast at her outburst.

"He doesn't need you or your parents. The only thing he needs is to get away from you. Come on, Marshall, we should be going," Mary said as she headed towards the door.

Marshall said nothing. He just stood, put some money on the table and gazed at Gemma for a long while before following Mary out.


	58. Fight or Flight

**AN: **Just in case you're unfamiliar with the titles associated with USMS (I was until I started research for this story), as far as I can tell, everyone is classified as a Deputy US Marshal, then some get promoted to Supervisory Deputy US Marshal, then Chief Deputy US Marshal and finally they get to drop the 'Deputy' when they get to US Marshal which is a political appointment. IPS designates Mary and Marshall as WITSEC Inspectors which I'm assuming is, at least, of equal rank to the Supervisory position. Anyway, I hope that clears up any potential confusion from Mary's comment about Marshall's career path.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 58 – Fight or Flight**

"Why are you being so pissy?" Mary asked as they sat in the departures lounge. "You've been acting weird since we got to DC."

Marshall didn't respond.

He was angry with her and with himself. He was still fuming about her outburst at the restaurant and he was annoyed with himself for wanting to believe Gemma. He'd spent a big chunk of the afternoon replaying bits of his conversation with Gemma, searching for the truth behind her words and comparing what he'd learnt with what he knew about her from years ago.

Gemma's declaration that she had loved him was what was confounding him most. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that he hadn't wasted three years in a relationship that was a complete sham from the outset. He wanted to believe he could have the sort of love that he saw around him all the time and that he hadn't wasted the last few years pining for something that wasn't even real.

Yet if it had been real, would he have been right to be hesitant to enter another relationship? He'd spent the last three (or was it four?) years too scared of getting hurt to take a chance with Mary. He could no longer remember the moment he had fallen for her but he had no difficulty recalling all the missed opportunities thanks to his reluctance.

Gemma's eagerness for him to move back to DC and pick up where they'd left off had surprised him and had seemed real enough. Even more surprising was her admission that she'd thought about him in the intervening years. The idea that she still wanted him was flattering, almost comforting, after Mary's rejection of him. Did it even matter that he still wasn't sure if Gemma had ever loved him? He had loved her, trusted her and he had gotten hurt. That was all he needed to know and what he needed to keep in mind.

And he _had_ loved her, once upon a time. If he admitted it, he still loved her a little. He'd spent three years with her, after all, and not all that time had been bad. That's what Mary didn't understand and he'd found he had just enough love for Gemma left to be pissed at Mary for her interference and insinuations.

So he ignored her question and hoped she would drop the subject.

Mary had planned on dropping in on Ellen, surprising both her and Marshall with an impromptu visit but had changed her mind after the disastrous lunch with Gemma. Marshall's preoccupation and his annoyance with her had sucked the fun out of the remainder of Mary's tour of DC so they had headed back to the airport early. They'd been sat in the departures lounge for twenty minutes before Marshall's brooding silence had finally made Mary snap and his lack of response to her question only served to irritate her more.

"Come on, Marshall, what the hell is wrong with you today?"

"Nothing," Marshall muttered.

"Okay! Fine, I'll play your guessing game," Mary said, "Hmmm...Let me see. Are you pissed at me for dragging you into the city?"

Mary's tone held a note of laughter as she amused herself by playing Twenty Questions. Marshall ignored her.

"Okay, not that then. You can't be pissed at because we ran into Gemma. I couldn't have known she'd be there the same time we were."

Marshall glanced obliquely at her.

"Oh, so I'm getting close then. Would you be pissed because I told Gemma to go to hell?" she asked lightly, although she already knew that was exactly why Marshall wasn't speaking to her.

Marshall shifted in the plastic seat.

"Jackpot!" Mary yelled, drawing attention from the other passengers waiting to board as she stood and began pacing up and down in front of Marshall. "We have a winner!" She threw her arms in the air, earning her more strange looks.

"Will you sit down?" Marshall hissed.

"Make me," Mary spat, all trace of humour gone now she had Marshall's full attention.

Marshall shot her an exasperated look which she ignored as she continued on her path.

"I only told her what you were about to," Mary spun to face him as she reached the edge of the arch she was pacing.

Marshall didn't move, holding preternaturally still under her direct gaze.

"What? You can't seriously have been considering moving back here, can you?"

"Whether I was or not, you can't just answer for me. I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions, Mare."

"Well, are you?" Mary asked, coming to stand directly in front of him.

Marshall avoided eye contact.

"Marshall? Are you?" she whispered, the hint of panic barely concealed in her voice.

Marshall still didn't say anything.

"Don't you see?" Mary spun and resumed her pacing as she retreated into her default position of anger, "Don't you see what she's doing? She's only interested in you because she's been blacklisted. I bet no one in DC will touch her after the publicity surrounding the affair."

"You don't know that," he murmured, feeling compelled to defend Gemma for reasons beyond his understanding.

"Didn't you see the way they were looking at her in the restaurant? And you. They were probably wondering who would be stupid enough to go out with her. Wondering who she had roped in this time."

"Don't say that," Marshall said.

Mary ignored his comment, she was still in full flow, "And don't think I didn't notice her interest in your career. Is that how she picks her men? Does she only go for those with political power or would she be satisfied with a lowly Chief Deputy? How long would it be before she's pushing you to go for US Marshal?"

"Gemma's not like that," he said, raising his voice for the first time.

"Oh, please, she's only interested in how high up the hierarchy you could go."

"That's not true!" Marshall yelled back, ignoring the avid interest from the other passengers.

"Jesus, Marshall! When did you get so gullible? That's why I told her to go to hell. You're too close to this to make the call."

Marshall snagged her arm as she prowled passed him again, forcing her to stand still and face him.

"It's my decision to make!"

"For the love of God, Marshall! She cheated on you for three years!" She shrugged his hand off her arm but remained where she was.

He stood slowly, retook her arm and leaned in close as he hissed, "So? Just because I made one bad decision twelve years ago, does not give you the right to make all my decisions now!"

"Three years, Marshall!"

"You can't go around interfering in my love life," he told her firmly.

"She's bad news," Mary insisted, crossing her arms.

"I don't just mean Gemma. You interfered a couple of days ago, too. Or had you forgotten that? You deliberately sabotaged a potential date. Why, Mary? Why did you do that?"

Mary looked sullen, shuffling her feet and staring at Marshall's hand, still resting on her arm, as she refrained from answering.

"Even if I _had_ deputized someone to make my decisions, I wouldn't pick you!" Marshall yelled, frustrated, "Have you seen your life lately? Have you noticed what a mess it is? You're the last person I'd want making my decisions!"

Marshall stopped yelling at the sight of Mary's hurt expression. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair tiredly.

"You can't have it both ways, Mare. I gave you the opportunity to be with me and you turned it down. You don't, now, get to dictate terms to me! You have no right to tell me who I can or can't see."

Marshall finally let her go, crossing his arms to mirror her position.

Mary looked up at him, meeting his eye for the first time since he'd stood up, "And why the hell not? I'm still your friend and I..."

Marshall cut her off, "No, Mary, there's only one way that you're allowed an opinion on who I date and that's if I'm dating _you_."

Mary's reply was cut off by a disembodied voice as it came over the tannoy, "Flight AA 4765 to Albuquerque now boarding at gate 24."

xxx

Marshall sat uncomfortably in the aircraft seat. It was possibly the longest flight in the world. At least, with his legs cramping, the silent treatment from Mary and the lack of distractions for his over active brain were certainly making it feel like that.

He knew he could ease maybe two of those problems. He could probably get Mary to talk to him again and that might give him enough distraction to stop obsessing over Gemma's words. The only drawback with that would be that he'd have to give in to Mary and he wasn't in a very forgiving mood at the moment.

Mary had been right that morning when she had said he was as mean and twisted as she was. He managed to hide his dark side, keeping it in check most of the time, but he could hold a grudge when he wanted to and could be just as petty as Mary at her worst.

And she had stepped over the line this time, well over. It was one thing for to interfere in his love life when she was acting out of jealousy, he could live with that. If she was jealous of who he was dating, it was because she wanted him and he was more than happy with that scenario. But to meddle in his love life when she had turned him down only the day before, smacked of spite and pettiness. It didn't matter that he hadn't given Gemma's proposal a second's thought, it was just the fact that Mary thought she had the right to answer for him.

He really hadn't been tempted to go back to Gemma, despite his musing about what it would be like if he did. The musings had only served to prove that Mary was right although he wasn't about to tell her that. Mary's refusal to speak to him had allowed him to imagine, in some detail, a life with Gemma; never sure if she loved him or if he was just the best she could get. Never knowing if she was seeing someone else. It didn't take a great deal of imagination to see how the fights would start. It would be about his career, he was sure of it. She'd constantly be pushing him to go for promotion and he'd give in, wanting to please her and he'd end up stuck in some desk job, far away from the action and resenting her for it. In the background, there'd always be Mary's words, making him question Gemma constantly pressuring him into a political position. It didn't take Nostradamus to predict the rapid demise of that particular relationship.

But more than that, he had promised himself to not let anyone or anything stop him pursuing Mary. So, as he sat in the cramped aircraft seat, he just amended his list of possible obstacles to include Gemma along with a very pissed off Mary.


	59. The Sleeper Must Awaken

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 59 – The Sleeper Must Awaken**

It took the usual format to begin with.

The futile search for someone, anyone, followed by the crushing disappointment that accompanied the discovery that she'd been abandoned. But then it changed. It morphed as it was inclined to do from time to time. This time, the change was a distant figure that caught her attention. Not knowing what else to do, she ran towards them. The run seemed never ending, the figure retreating before her as she moved toward it. The distance shortened painfully slowly despite her best efforts. When she finally succeeded in getting closer, she recognised Marshall's tall frame. She doubled her speed.

After what felt like a lifetime, she finally reached him.

And then she wished she hadn't.

Where she'd previously thought he was leaning on a post, she found he was tied to it. His head lolled forward, eyes stared unseeing at the floor. Mary looked down to find herself standing in a pool of blood. She quickly searched his body for any obvious wound, panic rising, desperate to staunch the bleeding. There was no injury that she could find but her search confirmed what she had feared.

Marshall was dead.

Mary woke the following morning and stumbled into the kitchen, still bleary eyed. She found Jinx sitting at the table, slowly stirring a cup of coffee.

"Do you want some coffee? I made plenty," Jinx said.

"Okay, Mom, what wrong? What have you done now?" Mary snapped, nerves still raw from yesterday's fight with Marshall and the dream that had interrupted her sleep.

"Why are you also so quick to assume I've done something...?"

"Experience?" Mary muttered.

Jinx continued as if Mary hadn't interrupted her, "Can't a mom just do something nice for her daughter?"

"In other families, maybe. But not in this one," Mary said as she suspiciously sniffed the mug of coffee Jinx handed her.

"Well, aren't you just a Doubting Doreen this morning?" Jinx chanted, worryingly cheerful. "What's got you all worked up?"

"Nothing," Mary huffed.

"That must be some nothing, then," Jinx studied her daughter more closely, taking the time to notice the limpness of her hair and bags under her eyes.

Mary noticed the scrutiny and moved to cut off any comment, "It's been a long week. Okay?"

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

"Of course, what else would it be?"

"I don't know. But a long week at work shouldn't have you crying out at night."

Mary looked at her mom, wondering what she was talking about.

"You screamed about four this morning. Brandi and I thought you were being murdered."

Mary shifted uncomfortably, "I have nightmares occasionally," she admitted.

"About what?"

"I don't remember," she snapped, although the sickening horror of finding Marshall dead still lingered.

They lapsed into silence a while, until Jinx asked, "Is Marshall coming over today?"

"No."

"Oh," Jinx sighed, disappointed.

"Why?" Mary asked suspiciously.

"I had hoped he would be, that's all."

"I don't think Marshall wants anything to do with our family any more, Mom," Mary told her.

Jinx stirred slightly but remained seated. She opened her mouth to ask something then promptly shut it again.

"What?" Mary asked, impatiently.

Jinx wriggled uncomfortably again, "Is it because of what I said to him at Thanksgiving?"

Mary stared at her mom for a second before answering.

"No, Mom, I think it's got more to do with me."

"Oh, it's just I haven't apologised to him for what I said. Can you call him and ask him to come over, so I can say sorry?"

"I don't think so," Mary said sharply.

"Why not?"

"I really don't want to see him today," she said, not wanting the opportunity to repeat yesterday's fight.

"Don't be ridiculous! You always want to see Marshall. Why won't you call him? It's because of what I said, isn't it? He doesn't want to see me," Jinx whined.

"Marshall and I had a fight, Mom. That's why I don't want to see him. It has nothing to do with you!"

"Then you _could_ call him for me," Jinx pounced, dismissing Mary's wishes once she knew her reluctance had nothing to do with her, "Please, Mary, it's a vital part of the program. Atoning for your mistakes and apologising to those you've hurt."

"I'm not calling him."

"You selfish, girl! You don't care that I'm trying my best to stay sober here. Do you know how hard it is, everyday, not to drink? And all week I've had this shadow over me, urging me to drink just to forget what I said to Marshall!"

"Fine! I'll call him! But don't be surprised if he doesn't turn up."

"Oh, thank you, Mary. You really are a sweet girl," Jinx clasped her hands together as she bounced up and down, once more displaying her mercurial moods.

xxx

Mary was staring at her laptop, trying to ignore the world.

The world, however, wasn't content to leave her alone. It kept intruding on her thoughts, pushing her to think about things she'd rather not. Pushing her to think about Marshall. She kept hearing the words he had yelled at her.

"_Have you seen your life lately? Have you noticed what a mess it is?"_

As if she needed reminding.

This morning alone had brought enough reminders. Her mom's insistence on apologising to Marshall for the harsh words she had flung at him while off the wagon was enough of an indication of the state of her personal life. On top of that, Mary was still reeling from the nightmare she'd had in the early hours of the morning.

She turned her thoughts away from her dream, preferring to recall the hurtful accusations Marshall had thrown at her during their fight.

The fight with Marshall had taken a nasty and personal turn once they'd disembarked the plane. Alone in the car, there was nobody to keep up a façade for and it had steadily increased in volume and vindictiveness.

"_You don't care what's best for me! You just care that I'll still be at your beck and call!" Marshall had yelled. "Some friend you are."_

And that wasn't the worst that had been said.

"Hey, Mare," Brandi said as she walked through the living room.

She interrupted Mary's train of thought as she plopped down on the sofa next to her.

"Mom said you had a fight with Marshall," Brandi opened, unaware that Mary's mind was already spinning thanks to that very topic.

"Did she? I didn't think she was listening," Mary responded dully.

"What did you fight about?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on, Mare, it must have been something..."

Mary took a while to respond, weighing the need to offload with the fact she'd be talking to Brandi rather than her usual confidant; Marshall.

"He said he regretted sleeping with me," Mary confided.

"You slept..." Brandi began loudly, before glancing over her shoulder and continuing in a whisper, "You slept with Marshall? When? Why didn't I know this?"

"Focus, Squish."

"I am. I need the background details to fully understand..."

"Yeah, yeah," Mary agreed half heartedly. "What do you want to know?"

"So the dinner the other night _was_ a date," Brandi reasoned, ignoring the carte blanche invitation to delve into Mary's private life.

"No!" Mary snapped. "Yes. I still don't know," she admitted, wiping a weary hand across her forehead.

"You don't know? You don't know if it was a date, but you slept with him anyway? Mare, you're worse than me. You should have made sure he took you out on one date, at least." Brandi didn't have many standards but she knew how to get the most out of a man.

"It wasn't like that. And even if was, dinner would have counted as the first date and we had lunch at the weekend. So that makes two dates."

"Still, Mare..."

"I'd had a long day. It just kinda happened."

"What was it like? Was it good?"

"Yeah," Mary breathed.

"Better than Chico?"

"Different. Good, really good. But different."

"But he regrets it?" Brandi asked, finally returning to the issue at hand.

"Yeah," Mary said with a sigh.

"Did he actually say that, or are you just being you and making something from nothing?"

"I don't...!"

"Please, Mary. You have no idea when it comes to relationships. Remember John? You thought he was cheating on you when he was just trying to arrange a surprise party for you."

"I hate surprises," Mary mumbled.

"So did he tell you he regretted it?"

Mary closed her eyes, replaying the scene from the car in her mind.

"_You don't care what's best for me! You just care that I'll still be at your beck and call! Some friend you are."_

_"If I'm such a bad friend, why didn't you just stay in DC with your beloved Gemma?" Mary spat. "You're going to go back to her anyway."_

_"I didn't say that."_

_"But you want to, don't you? You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Mary insisted._

_"Stop telling me what I'm thinking or feeling!" Marshall had yelled at her, slapping the steering wheel with his palm, unable to control his anger any longer. "If you're so damn interested then I'll tell you what I'm thinking. I wish Ellen had never come to stay and that we never made that stupid bet. But most of all, I wish we had never slept together." _

_Mary had stared at him in stunned silence._

"_I knew it was a bad idea at the time," Marshall had muttered, shaking his head._

"Yeah, he actually said it was a bad idea," Mary told her sister.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it like that," Brandi tried to reassure.

Mary huffed, indicating her disagreement.

"Even if he did, I'm sure he only said it in the heat of the moment," Brandi tried again.

"Exactly!" Mary pounced on Brandi's words. "He regrets it! He didn't mean to tell me, but he did. What do I do now? What am I going to do if he leaves?"

"Mare, not all men leave," Brandi said softly.

Mary looked at her sister in disbelief.

"Name one that hasn't," she challenged.

Brandi thought for a long time, chewing on her bottom lip as she did so. Mary returned to her laptop.

"Okay, you win," Brandi said, flopping back in the chair in defeat. "All men are lying, cheating, wastes of space that aren't to be trusted."

Mary smiled at her sister but there was no humour in it.

"I don't want him to leave, Squish," she admitted quietly, realising for the first time that her dream was a result of the fear she had just vocalised.

xxx

Mary's phone rang and she moved to answer it with a slight grimace when she saw the office number on the caller ID.

"We're moving Darren tomorrow," Marshall told her without preamble.

"Okay," she acknowledged

"Is that Marshall?" Jinx asked in a loud stage whisper.

Mary shot her mom a dirty look and saw Jinx looking at her with her sad, puppy dog eyes.

Mary sighed.

"My mom wants you to come over," she told Marshall reluctantly.

"Why?"

"Something about apologising and the program," she said.

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone.

"I'll bring the travel details over."

He hung up, leaving Mary staring at the phone in her hand.

xxx


	60. Any Forgiving Sunday

**AN:** Thanks again to Roar526 for stopping me second guessing myself constantly.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 60 – Any Forgiving Sunday**

Marshall rang the doorbell apprehensively. He couldn't help but contrast his arrival today with the last time he was here. Then he'd been worried enough about Mary that he'd taken the liberty of letting himself in. Today, there was no way he'd even consider using his key.

Mary opened the door and left it to swing open as she retreated to the living room. Marshall followed her, unsurprised at the lack of welcome.

He found Jinx sitting on the sofa and watched as Mary gathered her laptop and made to leave the room.

"Do you need me?" she asked Jinx as she paused in the doorway.

Jinx shook her head at Mary and patted the seat next to her, inviting Marshall to sit down. He sighed and perched on the edge of the sofa, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mary disappeared into her bedroom.

Jinx took a deep breath.

"I wanted to apologise to you for the things I said at Thanksgiving. I should never have said that you're not part of this family. Mary relies on you and that's enough for me," Jinx paused as Marshall stifled a snort.

"If Mary says you're family, then..."

Marshall huffed again.

"Or if you wanted to be a bigger part of the family..." Jinx said, thinking about the scene she had walked in on in Mary's bedroom.

Marshall stared at his hands, wringing them together, obviously uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

"What's up with you two at the moment?" she asked suddenly.

"We had a fight," Marshall told her.

"She told me that, but not what it was about," Jinx tried to tempt him into telling her what Mary wouldn't.

Marshall sighed, sitting back on the couch and running a hand through his hair, "It was about a lot of things. Mostly, her interfering in my life."

"That's nothing new," she pointed out, encouraging him to continue.

"No, it's not. But the last week it's been worse. I've tried telling myself that it's only because she cares but that doesn't always help. I lost my temper and said some things I shouldn't have."

"What did you say?"

Marshall shook his head, "Nothing I'd care to repeat."

"That's not like you; to be careless with what you say," Jinx said, surprised that whatever he had said was bad enough that he wasn't willing to repeat it.

"No, I can be positively Orwellian at times," Marshall admitted, wryly.

Jinx stared at him blankly.

"Huh?"

"The concept behind Newspeak in _1984_, is that if the words don't exist to enable an idea to be articulated then it makes it harder for that idea to be conceived. The link between thought and language is tenuous at best, yet the..." Marshall looked over at Jinx and realised he had lost her. "Anyway, I tend to apply the idea too literally at times. If I don't put into words my thoughts and feelings, then they don't exist and I won't hurt those around me."

"And you won't get hurt," Jinx added, sympathetically.

Marshall inclined his head slightly in agreement.

Jinx regarded him for a moment before announcing, "For a clever, well-read man, you really can be an idiot sometimes, Marshall."

He looked up, waiting for her to expand on her statement.

"Thoughts and feelings can't be controlled. It doesn't matter whether you name them or not, they'll always exist. The heart will never bend its will to the head so it doesn't matter how smart you are, when the heart is involved, you'll always do stupid things."

Marshall sat, contemplating her words, seeing the truth of them instantly but reluctant to apply them to his situation as part of his desire to leave what he felt for Mary unnamed.

Jinx gave him a minute before gesturing between them, asking, "So, are we okay?"

Marshall considered the question for a moment, "Are you still in the program?"

Jinx nodded.

"Did you speak to your sponsor?" Marshall asked, not entirely willing to let Jinx off scot-free and wanting to make sure she had accepted responsibly for her actions that day.

Jinx nodded again.

"Then we're okay."

xxx

Marshall stuck his head into Mary's room before he left. He found her sitting on her bed, laptop open but ignored.

"I've got the transfer details for tomorrow, if you want to take a look," Marshall offered.

Mary nodded and held out her hand for the folder. He passed it to her and she flicked it open. Marshall leant in the doorway.

Mary glanced at the contents but didn't really take in the details. She was searching for a way to broach a topic with Marshall. Any topic. It didn't matter what they talked about as long as they started talking. As long as she had some indication that they were still friends and could continue to work together in the short term, she would find a way to deal with the long term.

She'd already started forming a tentative plan. She'd moved to her bedroom so Marshall wouldn't see, or be tempted to ask, what she was looking at on the internet. She didn't, yet, want him to know she was researching Washington, DC as a place to live and work. She wasn't ready to tell him, yet, that she was willing to put in for a transfer and put up with Gemma's presence in his life if it meant they could continue working together.

That plan was strictly a last resort if she couldn't talk some sense into him.

"For God's sake, Marshall, stop hovering and sit down," she snapped, knowing it wasn't the best way to get him talking but not having any better ideas.

Marshall sighed and came to perch on the edge of the bed.

Mary studied the folder some more. Marshall said nothing.

"I had a nightmare last night," Mary volunteered.

Marshall tensed, he hadn't been expecting anything so personal from Mary and recognised it for the olive branch it was.

"What was it about?" he asked gently.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"You brought it up," he replied with a shrug, irritation showing.

"I don't want to think about it," Mary amended.

Marshall felt his irritation lessen at her admission, his resolve to stay angry at her melting in the face of her pain. Jinx's words flashed through his mind as his heart once more overruled his head.

"Think about this instead," Marshall told her, tapping the folder in her hand.

Never one to be told what to do, she lay the folder down on the bed between them as she prepared to ask the question that had been weighing heavily on her mind all day.

"Are you really going to transfer back to DC?"

Marshall looked surprised at her direct question and the fact that, for the first time since the issue had arisen, Mary was actually waiting for him to answer.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Then why have we been fighting?" Mary asked.

"Because you just assumed, and told Gemma, that I wouldn't go back to her rather than taking the time to actually ask me what I wanted to do," Marshall explained.

"So you don't want to get back together with her?"

"Of course not, I don't love her anymore. Well, not enough to make a relationship work."

"I don't know what you saw in her in the first place," Mary said, buoyed now she knew that Marshall wasn't leaving.

Marshall sighed and settled on to the bed more comfortably.

"I was on court security when I first moved to DC and we met at the court house. She was beautiful. I couldn't stop staring at her. Her hair was shorter then and she'd wear it up a lot. From my station in the court room I could just see her but mostly she had her back to me. I used to spend hours staring at the back of her neck; it was so long and graceful," Marshall shook his head wistfully as he remembered the sight.

"It was purely physical at first. Then, when we started dating and I realised who her dad was, I was stupid enough to think that he may be able to help my career or at least hinder it if I broke up with her. That's part of the reason I stayed with her as long as I did. But I loved her, too.

"She had a huge music collection and would delight in working song titles or lyrics into any and every conversation. It became a challenge between us to see who could work the most obscure line into conversation and you got a different amount of points depending on who you were talking to. The more formal the situation, the more points you got," Marshall smiled as he recalled some of the times he had been caught by his boss quoting Michael Jackson lyrics at inappropriate moments.

Marshall hadn't intended on telling her as much as he had, but Mary's silence was rare and Marshall took advantage of the lack of interruptions to reminisce about the good and the bad of his and Gemma's relationship with his best friend.

He continued, "She could always make me laugh and she could be really kind. She once arranged for a group of underprivileged kids to spend the weekend on a ranch in Virginia. And she was a member of Amnesty International, although she never actually did anything for them, she just talked about human rights a lot. I suppose I saw the grand gestures and thought they were part of who she was, never realising they were just superficial and covering up what she was really like.

"I know better, now. I try not to judge people on what they say or how they act, but on what they do. Being with Gemma taught me that at least," Marshall stopped speaking as he recalled the various instances Mary had intervened on behalf of a witness. Little details that were never noticed by any of their supervisors, except Stan, but which made her witnesses' lives just a fraction easier.

Mary considered his words, glossing over the details of his attraction to Gemma to take the time to appreciate his point of view. She could understand what he was telling her in regard to her assumptions. She didn't want to admit it, but she was beginning to realise that she needed to take the blame for a large portion of the fight yesterday. Marshall was right, it had only been her assumption that had caused her to think Marshall was leaving.

"I'm sorry. I didn't listen to you when I should have," she said. "I got obsessed with the idea you'd leave me and it blinded me to everything else."

Marshall just nodded, not knowing what to say in response.

Mary didn't expect him to say anything. She knew that it would take a while for them to return to normal. Too many hurtful things had been said yesterday for them to forgive and forget so quickly, but she was pleased they had at least made a start.

"So we're still friends?" Mary asked, still needing to check and hear him say it.

"Yes," he said and looked away sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I implied otherwise."

Mary handed the folder back to him and he stood ready to leave.

At the door, he turned and said, "But, Mare, I meant what I said yesterday. You can't interfere in my love life unless you're directly involved. It's not fair to me."

xxx

"Every thing okay with you and Marshall?" Jinx asked as Mary made her way into the kitchen.

She had seen Marshall leave earlier and while he hadn't exactly stormed out, he hadn't been at his most cheerful when he'd said goodbye.

"Yeah," Mary said as she reached into the fridge to retrieve a beer.

Jinx pursed her lips at Mary's reluctance to share any details of her life with her.

Mary noticed and added, "We talked a bit. But we're still kind of...you know."

Jinx nodded her understanding, "What did he say to you yesterday?"

Mary hesitated, not wanting to recall the details of the fight.

"He said that I was selfish. And he's right. I am selfish. I never stop to consider what he wants. I'm amazed he's stuck by me as long as he has," Mary said, awed by his perseverance.

"That wasn't all he said though, was it?"

"No," she breathed.

"It's always the ones we love that hurt us the most," Jinx said, not knowing where or when she had heard the saying.

Mary scoffed, "I don't love Marshall, Mom."

"Oh, Mary, Mary, my angel," Jinx clasped her hands together, always astonished by her daughter's ability to overlook the obvious, "Only someone you love could get under your skin and hurt you that much."

Mary looked at her mother a moment before snatching her beer off the counter and slinking off to her bedroom.


	61. A Happy Medium

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 61 – A Happy Medium**

"Hey, Mary, long time no see," Darren greeted as Mary walked through the door.

"Hey, Darren," she said distractedly.

Marshall exchanged a quick nod with the man as he looked around the room, assessing Darren's readiness to leave.

"I was wondering if I'd done something to upset you, or if it was my cooking at Thanksgiving that had scared you away."

Mary grinned in response to Darren's joke, "We were reassigned for a while. Did you miss us?"

"Well, you yes, but Marshall, not so much," Darren joked with her.

Mary shot Marshall a smug look.

"I stopped by occasionally," he revealed.

She looked at Marshall again, surprised that he had managed to find time to visit Darren while on the shift system devised to allow them to guard the Delcroix family.

Marshall shrugged in reply to her unasked question, eloquently conveying that Darren was his witness so his responsibility and that Mary didn't know about everything he did.

Mary looked away as his unspoken words poured salt into wounds still raw from their fight.

"You ready to go?" Marshall asked.

Darren nodded.

"We'll take you to Hartford and introduce you to your new marshals," Marshall ran through the plan again, even though he had spent two hours with him yesterday outlining the next couple of weeks. "They'll be the ones that take you to New York, as and when, you need for surgery. You'll be staying in a motel until you've had the surgery and you'll still need to stay out of sight. I guess it will be a similar set up as we had here," he surmised.

"Once you've had the surgery and you're no longer recognisable as Darren Moloney, TV psychic extraordinaire, they'll set you up in an apartment and you can start to rebuild your life. Although you won't be able to work as a psychic or on TV," Marshall warned although he knew that the Hartford marshals would go through the MoU with him again.

"Any idea how long it's going to take to get there yet?" Darren asked, repeating the one question Marshall hadn't been able to answer the previous day.

"We're going via Tampa to Boston then driving to Hartford," Marshall confirmed, having got approval of his travel route that morning. "We'll be there by dinner."

Darren looked around the room that had been his home for the last three weeks. The room held no real memories for him; he wouldn't be sad to leave it although he would miss the two marshals that had been assigned to protect him. The lengths they had gone to to keep him safe and sane had not gone unnoticed. The frantic journey from Minneapolis with time for a spot of sight seeing would remain with him, along with the memory of their Thanksgiving dinner together. That was one of the many visits that they had made with the sole purpose of making sure he had company and that his cabin fever wasn't getting too unbearable. Yes, he'd miss Mary and Marshall alright, but not Albuquerque.

He nodded his readiness to Marshall and slung a bag over his shoulder as Marshall gathered up another bag and Mary led the way to the car.

xxx

After an hour Darren began to realise all was not right between his marshals.

Something had disturbed the delicate balance that existed between them. It wasn't obvious at first. They were quieter than normal so it was hard to see, but the banter was strained.

There was nothing overt that Darren could put his finger on. The jokes were still there, the insults still countered each joke. But there was an occasional pause, a split second missed timing, a heartbeat of hesitation that told him all was not well.

xxx

"I can't believe you told me I'd need my coat!" Mary said as she stripped off her outdoor coat and jacket.

"You will," Marshall replied, not looking away from the pamphlet he'd acquired from somewhere. "Average high in Hartford in December is 40 Fahrenheit," he reeled off sounding bored.

They were sitting in a the waiting room of a small airstrip outside Tampa and it was significantly warmer than New Mexico.

Mary moved over to the window, hoping it would be cooler there and checking for any sign of the plane scheduled to take them on the next leg of the trip. Behind her Marshall was still reciting meteorological data.

"Of course, with the wind chill today, it's going to feel more like 15 F."

"Will you shut the hell up about the weather!" she yelled across the room. "It's not doing anything to make me cooler."

Marshall looked up and stared at Mary. She looked away.

"Sorry," she said, walking back over to the chairs and sitting next to Marshall.

Darren looked over at the pair of them, watching the façade slip as Mary's unexpected apology made them both uncomfortable. They'd done their best to carry on as normal but Mary's snapping at Marshall had her apologising rather than smiling as she waited for his comeback, a sure sign they weren't themselves.

Marshall tried to regain some normalcy, "You'll be moaning more later if you didn't have it."

"Doesn't stop me wishing I'd worn shorts right now," she replied.

"Yeah, I wish you had, too," he muttered earning him a strange look from Mary as his eyes lingered on her legs. "Too soon?" he asked.

Mary nodded, uncomfortable with turn in the conversation and his admiring gaze.

"It just makes it difficult to know what to wear when we cross several climate zones," Mary said retreating to the safety of her original complaint.

"I'll bare that in mind next time I plan a transfer," Marshall announced.

xxx

Darren pushed the car door open and stepped out into the cold New England weather. He paused on the way into the motel, looking over his shoulder as if waiting for someone.

"Darren?" Mary asked when she noticed his hesitation. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," he said, turning back to her with a huge smile.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Simon's here," he whispered as they waited for Marshall to finish at the check-in desk.

"What do you mean?" Mary looked around to see if she could see anyone.

"No, not _here_ here. But in Hartford. He's found me. I can sense him," Darren replied excitedly.

Marshall approached, key in hand.

"What's he so happy about?" he asked.

"He can sense Simon," Mary informed him sceptically as Darren stared out at the parking lot either talking to himself or spirits that neither marshal could see.

"All this time, I thought he'd abandoned me," Darren muttered.

Marshall ignored him, turning to Mary, "There's a problem," he told her quietly, not wanting to bring Darren down.

"The marshals that were supposed to meet us here aren't here yet," he said, relaying the information from the check-in clerk.

"So?" Mary asked, the answer obvious to her. "We wait. We can't leave him unprotected. They'll be here soon." She added the last bit in the hope that it was true rather from any real conviction.

Marshall nodded and showed Darren into the motel room.

xxx

An hour later Marshall signalled Mary to come outside to talk to him.

"They're still not here," he began.

"I can see that, Numbnuts," she replied. Her patience was wearing thin after a full day with Marshall and the weird tension between them.

"I think we should call the Hartford office and look into the possibility of moving Darren, just in case."

"I'll call the office," she said, grabbing her phone and turning away from him, grateful to finally have something useful to do and someone to yell at that she wouldn't feel guilty about afterwards.

Yelling proved to be unnecessary as the call to the WITSEC office went unanswered.

"There's no one at the office," she called back into the room where Marshall was finding alternative motels. He got Darren to switch the TV to the local news.

Mary pulled the door to, shielding Darren from the view of anyone in the parking lot as she dialled again.

This time her call was answered by a very harried sounding woman, "Rebecca Adler."

"Hi, I'm US Marshal Mary Shepard," Mary told her, "I'm supposed to be meeting a team of marshals but I can't get hold of them. I was wondering if anyone at the DoJ knew what was going on?"

Mary winced at her phrasing. In her experience the DoJ didn't know what was happening in their own department, let alone in WITSEC. There was a pause and the sound of rustling paper.

"Mary Shepard, you say?"

There was another pause and more background noise. Mary though she heard someone in the background swear. Something was obviously going on.

"Marshal Shepard, I'm afraid you've called at a bad time. Can I call you back in a few hours?"

"No!" Mary growled, her unease growing every second. "I need to know NOW whether my location has been compromised."

"I'm afraid I can't give you that information, Marshal Shepard, there's been an incident downtown that's requiring all our manpower. I don't have the authority to advise you what to do," Rebecca told her.

Mary didn't bother to thank her before hanging up. She pushed the door open to see Marshall watching the local news.

"We're changing location," Mary told him.

He switched the TV off and smiled as Darren sighed and moved to gather the few items he had unpacked in the time they had been at the motel.

"Okay, there's a motel the other side of I-91," he said.

Mary didn't question how he knew that, instead saying, "We should avoid downtown if possible."

"Duly noted."

Marshall turned to see Darren packed and looking at him, waiting for the order to move. Marshall smiled again, remembering the reluctant, whining man they had transported from San Francisco and marvelling at how the prospect of being reunited with the spirit of his dead boyfriend, weird as the idea was, was motivating him. Putting his recollections aside, he turned to leave the room planning do a security sweep of the parking lot and car, only to collide with Mary as she went to exit the room as well.

Mary glared at him and he stared back.

The stare off was broken by Darren asking, "So, are we going?"

"Yeah, we just need to do a quick check before we go," Marshall explained as Mary left to do just that.

She returned shortly, signalling the all clear and the two men made their way to the car. A short drive later, taking care to avoid downtown, they arrived at the new motel.

"How long shall I check us in for?" Marshall asked.

Mary shrugged, "I don't care, just make sure you get two rooms at least."

Marshall stared at her a moment in disbelief that she would think she needed to specify two rooms. Then his comment from the other day came back to him.

"_I wish we had never slept together."_

The words rang loud in his ears as he got out the car to see if there were two rooms available.

xxx

The night passed quietly enough.

Mary spent a while bitching about how, if she'd known she was going to be spending the night away from home, she would have brought a change of clothes. Darren commiserated with her and offered her her choice of his clothes which promptly stopped Mary's moaning much to Marshall's amusement.

They finally received a phone call from Stan saying something had cropped up that had taken the marshals they were supposed to meet away from Hartford but they'd be back the following day and just to sit tight. He hadn't given any details of what had required more immediate attention and Mary hadn't asked anything other than whether it was linked to Darren's presence. Stan had assured her it wasn't, allowing her and Marshall to relax their vigilance slightly.

Now, after a restless night's sleep, the other marshals had arrived and Marshall had to say goodbye to Darren.

"Well, Darren, it's time for us to part ways," he said, stretching out a hand to shake Darren's.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me," Darren said, pulling Marshall into a hug. "I'm sorry I won't get to introduce you to Simon."

Marshall saw the flicker of confusion cross the other marshal's face at mention of the unfamiliar name.

Before he could say anything in response, Darren whispered to him, "It'll get better with Mary, just give it time."

As Marshall gently extracted himself from the hug, he nodded in acknowledgement of Darren's words. He was prevented from saying anything by the presence of the other marshal and instead watched as Marshal Wootton searched through the paperwork on his new witness for information on a Simon. Marshall briefly considered telling him but decided to let him find out on his own. It was much more fun that way, at least, it was for Marshall.

xxx

"Sorry about yesterday," Marshal Finn said to Mary as they stood near the cars, waiting for Marshall, Marshal Wootton and Darren to emerge.

"Yeah, what happened?" She'd seen the report of shots fired on the local news and had recognised the evasive phrasing that only those in the know would associate with WITSEC being involved.

"We got called away on an emergency relocate," the other woman told her, "I hope it didn't cause you two too much trouble?"

Mary shook her head, "No, no trouble at all." She struggled to keep any trace of sarcasm out of her voice. It sounded like the Connecticut based agents had had enough problems yesterday; they didn't need to be burdened with her and Marshall's personal problems.

She was only partially successful. Alison Finn looked over at her peer, looking her up and down slowly. She grinned. Mary shifted uncomfortably.

"My partner hates me," she explained as Alison's grin kept getting bigger, "We had a fight the other day and this is my punishment."

Alison chuckled.

Marshall had disappeared early that morning on the hunt for some clean clothes. He had discovered a nearby golf warehouse and had spent more time than was actually necessary ensuring he left with the most tasteless of all the t-shirts for Mary. It was two sizes too big, fluorescent green with a pink and orange check.

It was bad enough that she had to be seen wearing a golfing shirt but Marshall's sudden colour and pattern blindness really pushed the humiliation to the limit.

"He bought me matching shorts, too," Mary said, finally having to see the funny side in the face of Alison's uncontrolled giggles.

"Why?" Alison wheezed between giggles, "Why would he do that?"

"I might have complained about his chosen route yesterday. How he was making it hard for me to dress for the weather."

Alison doubled over, clutching her side as Mary filled her in on how she'd thrown the shorts in Marshall's face declaring she'd rather go without than wear them. Slowly her laughter subsided, "Oh, thank you. I needed that."

Mary smiled, knowing well the feeling of release after a tense couple of days and wishing she could ease the tension between her and Marshall so easily. They had at least reached a happy medium, a point where they could work together after yesterday's apology but the cracks were visible to anyone that dared to look. Mary knew there wasn't much she could do to repair the cracks, she was just papering over them at the moment and hoping they would heal in time. There may be nothing she could do about her and Marshall, but she could help a fellow marshal get over her bad day.

"At least he bought me clean socks," Mary said, lifting the hem of her jeans to show Alison the knee-length grey and green stripes that set Alison off laughing again.


	62. Seven Days a Week

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 62 – Seven Days a Week**

Mary opened her back door and peered in warily.

Seeing the coast was clear, she made a dash to her bedroom and closed the door quickly. She didn't want her family to see her dressed like this. They had enough ammunition against her without seeing her wearing this particular outfit.

The hideous t-shirt Marshall had chosen had drawn some strange looks and Marshall had spent the entire trip back from Connecticut mocking her and smirking in her direction when he thought she wasn't looking. She had put up with it, vowing to take her punishment like a man, for that is what she knew it to be; a punishment. The fluorescent lime green, pink and orange check shirt was Marshall's subtle way of showing her what happened when you couldn't make your own decisions.

Once safely ensconced in her room, she removed the hideous t-shirt and dropped it on the bed. She quickly located a sweatshirt and put it on. She went to throw the evil golf shirt in the trash when something stopped her.

Something to do with the thought that Marshall had put effort in to finding such a thing made her hesitate. He didn't do things without purpose and if he wanted her to wear a visible reminder of their fight, he must have had a reason.

"_If you spent less time making my decisions for me, you might learn to appreciate the thought I put into my choices. I actually bother to consider _both_ our needs, not just mine!" he had spat._

She ran her hand over the shirt. She smiled at her partner's offbeat sense of humour and justice. She picked the shirt up, folded it carefully and stored it on the top shelf of her closet, under the box in which she kept the letters from her dad.

xxx

Mary was surprised to see the top half of a muffin sat on her desk when she came in Wednesday morning. She looked around the office, her eyes finally landing on Marshall, the only one there so her chief suspect by default.

"Are you too cheap to shell out for a whole muffin now?"

Marshall shrugged, "I was hungry. I saved you the top. What more do you want?"

"A whole muffin?" she suggested, taking her seat and picking at the half Marshall had left her.

Marshall worked quietly at his computer while Mary considered his offer. He might have originally bought the muffin to satisfy his hunger but he had left her her favourite bit. Perhaps things were getting back to normal, she thought.

xxx

Eleanor decided to just come out and ask.

Almost a week had passed since Eleanor had decided that Mary and Marshall had finally slept together. Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to satisfy her curiosity as they'd been out of the office transporting witnesses over the weekend, returning late on Tuesday. She'd seen them both the day before but they'd been in and out the office checking on their regular witnesses.

Now, it was just her and Mary in the office and lacking any form of lead in, she decided to just ask. Mary appreciated the direct approach anyway, and waiting for her to raise the subject wasn't getting Eleanor anywhere.

"So, what's he like?"

"Who and what are we talking about?" Mary looked up, confused.

"Marshall. What's he like in the sack?"

"Why is that the first question everyone asks when they find out I've slept with him?" Mary asked, then another thought occurred to her, "Come to think of it, how did you find out?"

"Oh, please! It's obvious just looking at the pair of you," Eleanor declared with a smile.

Mary considered this a moment.

"Then you haven't noticed anything...off...between us?"

"Only the usual post sex awkwardness most partners go through," Eleanor said as she rummaged in the filing cabinet behind her desk, "Why? Didn't he do it right? Oh, you poor girl..."

xxx

"You don't need to come with me," Mary told Marshall, Friday afternoon.

She was on her way to visit the Lerners. As she stood and picked up her bag, Marshall had moved to accompany her.

"I know."

"It's just if you have something better to do..." she said, giving him the option to back out if he wanted.

"Don't you want me to come?" he asked, pausing as he went to lift his jacket off the back of his chair.

Mary shuffled her feet and played with the pen pot on her desk.

"If you don't want me to come, Mare, just say so. I won't mind, although I'd like to know why...?"

"I don't want you to be at my beck and call..." she told him, still fiddling with the pens as she recalled the accusations he had thrown at her at the weekend.

Marshall sighed. It didn't take a genius to make the mental connection between Mary's reluctance to have him join her and the fight they had had. Marshall put his jacket on and signalled his readiness to leave, all the time wondering; when were they going to get past this?

xxx

Saturday had started peacefully enough but a mid-morning phone call had Mary and Marshall on their way to see one of Mary's witnesses. The problem was a fairly standard one; the witness thought she had seen someone she knew from her previous life. Mary and Marshall were on their way to find out what, if any, danger she was in.

This was the fourth time in six months that this witness had called them thinking she had seen someone. Each time it had turned out to be a false alarm. While they still needed to investigate, neither of them were overly worried that the situation would escalate.

Because of that, Marshall was happily irritating Mary as she drove.

"Many hands make light work," Marshall all but chanted, causing Mary to roll her eyes.

Marshall waited until they'd gone through another stop sign then added, "Of course, too many cooks have been known to spoil the soup."

Mary ripped the top sheet of her notepad off and balled it up. She threw it so it bounced off the window and hit Marshall in the side of the head.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but paper balls with never hurt me," Marshall said with a grin as he threw it back.

Mary tilted her head to one side, "I thought it was 'words will never hurt me'?"

"Yeah, it is, but it didn't fit," Marshall said as he tried to dig out the ball from where it had lodged under his leg from Mary's last throw.

"Plus, I was taught it as 'words will never break me', after all, the right words from the right person _can_ hurt," he pointed out.

"Yeah, they can," she agreed.

xxx

The waitress looked over at Marshall expectantly. His attention was fixed firmly on the menu. The restaurant was busy for a Sunday evening so he was attempting to avoid her impatient stare as he made his choice.

"What are the sauce options with the steak?" he asked, not looking up.

"Barbecue, peppercorn, Jack Daniels or white wine with mushrooms," the waitress reeled off instantly.

"Hmmm..."

"He'll have the smothered chicken with extra onion rings," Mary said, bored of waiting for Marshall to decide.

He fixed her with a steely glare.

"What? You do this every time!" she said, exasperated. "You always spend ages considering the steak and asking about the sauces but you never order it."

Marshall continued to glare at her.

"Fine!" she conceded, finally remembering her recent resolution to allow him to make his own choices, no matter how small or tedious. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed and pouted as she waited for him to make his decision.

"I'll have the smothered chicken," he finally told the waitress.

She smiled and walked away just as Mary yelled, "Don't forget the extra onion rings!"

She wasn't about to go without her onion rings just because the waitress was too stupid to listen to her in the first place.

Marshall pulled a face and muttered, "I'm glad I won't be kissing you later."

An uneasy silence descended over the table.

xxx

"Sorry," Mary mumbled as she accidentally brushed up against Marshall as they got into the elevator.

She stopped staring at her Blackberry screen for a moment as she considered what she had just done. She had been in close physical proximity to Marshall many times and had never felt the need to apologise to him before.

She sighed as she realised it was just another side effect of their fight. She glanced up, wanting to see Marshall's reaction. He wasn't where she expected him to be, at her side, so she glanced around the elevator, sure he had got on with her. She caught a glimpse of movement out the corner of her eye and spun to find Marshall standing directly behind her.

"What are you doing, you idiot?"

"This is getting ridiculous, Mare. We can't work like this," he sighed.

Mary froze, dreading what was coming next.

"It's only Monday and I'm already wishing for Friday. I've never felt like this about work before. We need to get this taken care of."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked as the doors slid open.

They stepped out into the office and Marshall's eyes raked across Stan's window and Eleanor's desk, checking for any signs of life. Seeing they were alone, he leant against his desk. Some conversations were best had standing up.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I need to do something, Mare. I can't stand this waiting and hoping that it will resolve itself."

"What do you want to do? What is there that we _can_ do?"

Marshall thought for a long time. He really hadn't thought this through before speaking, he was just so frustrated that Mary had felt the need to apologise after such a slight touch, that he had given his mouth free rein.

Now, as his brain raced to catch up, the only thought that lingered in his mind was how much he missed her touch.

"We could hug?" he suggested before his brain had a chance to intervene.

Mary peered at him.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to regret it later," she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

Marshall flinched at her tone but, to all appearances, ignored her words. He stood up straight and spread his arms, giving her the option to step into his hug.

Mary studied him intently. Finally she decided that he was right; they couldn't go on like they had been. Marshall may not have all the answers but he was at least trying.

She took a step forward, determined to match his effort.


	63. Great Minds Think Alike

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 63 – Great Minds Think Alike**

As Marshall's arms encircled her she felt all the tension and awkwardness of the last week melt away. She relaxed into his embrace, leaning her body into his to maximise contact and the comfort it brought. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest.

The familiarity was nice. They didn't hug often but they had woken up intertwined several mornings over the last month and a half and it was the familiarity of that Mary found herself missing as she stood in Marshall's arms.

Marshall felt Mary inhale deeply and tightened his grip on her. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to suggest a hug and he hadn't honestly expected Mary to accept. Yet here she was, clinging to him like a lifeline, in the middle of the office. He knew when it ended their problems would still exist, but while he stood there with her in his arms he couldn't bring himself to care.

xxx

Stan and Eleanor returned from their lunch together to find Mary and Marshall still locked in their silent embrace. Stan opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by Eleanor's hand on his arm. She shook her head at him and quietly led him into his office to give the Inspectors some privacy.

xxx

Mary opened the back door and strolled into her kitchen. She threw her keys on the counter and dropped her bag on a chair. She looked around, noticing the absence of any family members and the relative tidiness of the kitchen. She wandered into the living room and stood in the middle of the room.

She looked around, searching for something to do.

There was always the TV. And her laptop lay open on the table, obviously having been used by Brandi. But she wasn't in the mood for either of those activities. She closed the laptop lid and continued her search for something to do. What did she do before she Raph had left? How had she spent her free time? She struggled to recall. And more to the point, what had she done before she had met Raph?

She sat on the sofa and stared out the window.

This was the first evening she had had to herself since before the Delcroix's had arrived. The week since they had left had been quieter but her evenings had still been full as she caught up with the paperwork associated with the Delcroix family and her regular witnesses whom she had been neglecting over the last couple of weeks. She'd spent one long afternoon and evening phoning her contacts trying to find a job for Dan Lerner fulfilling the promise she had made to him at Thanksgiving.

Marshall had joined her one evening but the uneasiness had been more evident as they worked at her kitchen table than it had at the office. It wasn't an experience either of them had been keen to repeat.

The one evening that week she hadn't had any work to do, her mom and Brandi had had a blazing row that had forced her into her bedroom in order to avoid getting dragged into it.

Now, having a rare moment to herself and the quiet needed to think, she cast her mind back over the last few weeks.

xxx

Marshall let the familiar feel of the gun in his hand reassure him. Carefully he took aim and squeezed the trigger.

He'd sought refuge at the shooting range after work. He hadn't had chance to practise for several weeks as his witnesses' demands on his time had kept him busy. He struggled to recall the last time he had been there and was finally rewarded with the memory of taking Ellen there.

Then, as now, a member of the Mann family had sought solace in the precision and repetition of the habitual actions. Then, it had been Ellen, still shaken from her nightmare that had needed to release her tension by destroying the silhouetted man at the end of the lane. Now it was Marshall that was allowing the sounds and smells of the range calm his thoughts.

As he let off a few more rounds, he let his mind drift. It moved from his contemplation of Ellen and her nightmares to wonder whether the Human Genome Project would ever identify the gene that encouraged some people to find comfort in such a destructive pastime. He wondered if he and the rest of his family should volunteer; they certainly all seemed to have the requisite gene.

He envisioned each of his problems separately, forming them into the shape of a bullet in his mind until each real bullet represented a memory from the last week. As he pulled the trigger releasing the bullet from the chamber, so he released a portion of the tension he had been carrying all week. He allowed all his cares to go flying down the lane, out of his reach and began to find a measure of peace.

It was a technique that had always served him well for the smaller issues in life but he didn't know if there was a bullet big enough to symbolise his regret at letting himself being drawn into that fight with Mary.

But behind his regret was also a feeling of righteousness. He had been right to tell her to but-out of his love life unless she was directly involved. She couldn't keep messing with him and telling him what to do and she had needed to hear that. But at the same time he couldn't believe that she had drawn him in so thoroughly that he had said the things he had said.

Her questions and insistent little digs on the way home from the airport had come at the worst possible time. With the memories of a JPATS flight fresh in his mind, the overwhelming emotions associated with every bit of DC as he linked the sights to Gemma and then the motherload of actually running into her, he'd been in a state. He hadn't been able to control his emotions and Mary's constant badgering had pushed him over the edge.

He was used to keeping his emotions hidden from everyone, including himself at times, but he hadn't been able to keep up his mask and answer her question. Looking back, he could see how she would have interpreted his refusal to answer. He knew she had honestly thought he was considering Gemma's offer. She had no way of knowing that he had just been trying to keep it together long enough to get home.

When the dam had burst, it had released a torrent. He had said things that he would never normally think, let alone say. He'd lashed out, hoping to push her away just long enough so that he could regain his emotional footing. But now he feared he may have pushed too hard.

The week of awkwardness between him and Mary had made him question just what he'd said. He remembered most of what had been said but there were gaps in his memory when he knew that he'd been talking, or yelling at her, but no amount of trying would bring the exact words to mind. Yesterday at dinner he had made an offhand joke that had left Mary reeling. He'd spent all last night and most of today worrying at just what he had said.

The awkwardness of the week had culminated this afternoon when Mary had apologised for brushing up against him.

He'd been at his wit's end when he had suggested a hug. He hadn't known what else to do. The relief he had felt when Mary had stepped into his embrace had been eclipsed the instant his arms had closed around her. Then, he'd been overwhelmed by a sense of guilt that he had been the one to cause this distance between them.

He emptied the magazine into the target and as he waited for the target to reset, Mary's words replayed in his mind.

"_Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to regret it later."_

The words had stuck in his mind because of the way she had said them. Something was behind that seemingly flippant comment and he was determined to find out what.

He levelled his weapon again. He focused on the outline of the man at the end of the lane. He pulled the trigger again, three times in rapid succession. Three shots, three hits; center mass.

He relaxed his stance as he tried to place the reference to regret. Where had he heard that recently? The task was beginning to give him a headache. Perhaps coming to the range, with its long bangs, to think had been a bad idea after all. But, as he brought his weapon up once again and proceeded to take aim, a fragment of the fight drifted into his mind.

"_I knew it was a bad idea at the time,"_ he recalled telling Mary.

He smiled wryly at the thought. He had known from the beginning that sleeping with Mary would be a bad idea. The thought that he could sleep with her and _not_ feel like shit when he was forced to give her up had never occurred to him. He had known it would be near impossibly to go on afterwards, knowing what he was missing and that he'd be better off if he never found out. Yet, even knowing all this, he had still taken the chance. There was no way he would allow his dream to come that close and not reach out a hand to touch it, even if the contact was fleeting.

No, even after all that had happened, he still couldn't bring himself to regret sleeping with her.

And with that thought came realisation; that was exactly what Mary had thought he had meant.

He unloaded the remainder of his magazine in rapid succession, not caring where they hit.

xxx

'What the hell did I do before I met Raph?' Mary asked herself again.

It was the thought that kept reappearing despite her resolve not to think about Raph. Finally she gave up and allowed herself to take a look at the events surrounding his departure. After all, who knew when she would get the house to herself again?

Perhaps, she reasoned, if she could identify what she had done to push him away, she could prevent the same happening with Marshall. Although he had assured her he wasn't leaving, she hadn't been entirely convinced. She had spent most of this week trying to create some distance between them, in preparation for his eventual departure. But this afternoon, standing encircled by his arms, she had come to realise that was the wrong approach. Instead she should be taking steps to ensure he stayed. She had made plans to go with him if he did return to DC, not wanting to give up just because he said they were over, but she needed to show him she was serious about their partnership and prepared to fight to keep him. On the other hand, her previous efforts to that effect hadn't turned out the way she had expected. Telling Gemma to get stuffed had only driven a wedge between them, creating a divide Mary now needed to mend.

So, she settled in to analyse her relationship with Raph.

She managed to pinpoint the main problem in their relationship quickly; he had rushed her into things. She had identified that as her main sticking point days ago when Raph had asked for the ring back. As she thought on it some more, doing her best to look at the events of their engagement and relationship objectively, she began to recognise that Raph had done his best. He had tried and he was basically a good man.

Unfortunately, she also discovered that she didn't need a good man. She needed someone that could keep up with her, that she could trust to keep himself safe and watch her back when she needed it. No, she didn't need a good man at all. She needed a bad-ass. But preferably one on the right side of the law, unlike her previous, temporary, husband.

She needed a bad-ass with a nice, shiny badge she decided.

One name sprang to mind almost instantly.

Marshall.

She wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. To have a partner in every sense of the word. To have someone she could rely on and trust. To have someone that would trust her to take care of herself and not try to do it for her. To have someone she actually liked for a change. Someone she wanted to spend time with, in and out of bed.

'Was that love?' she wondered.

Did she love Marshall? Jinx certainly seemed to think so. And Marshall had told her that he loved her on two occasions now. The problem was she wasn't sure if he had only meant as a friend or if he actually _loved her _loved her.

And if he did, did she feel the same? She wasn't sure. Yet, the week she had spent posing as his fiancée had been so easy, so simple, so nice. She wanted that again.

She sighed as she concluded that she had probably lost any chance of that now. Marshall had told her point blank that he wished he hadn't slept with her so he was unlikely to want to repeat the experience, even if she did.

She hadn't even been in a relationship with Marshall yet she had managed to ruin it anyway.

Was that a record? she wondered silently.

Sick of herself and her ability to mess things up, she grabbed her badge and gun off the coffee table and decided to head to the shooting range. At least there she could destroy something real and get something back from the experience.

xxx

"Nice shooting," a voice called as Marshall lowered his weapon.

He slid the ear defenders off as he turned. Mary stood behind him, obviously ready for some target practise herself. He glanced back at the target, checking his shots to see if she was being sarcastic.

"Thanks," he said as he realised it was a genuine compliment.

Mary set up in the lane next to him. Marshall fiddled with his piece, wondering if he should say something to her. He decided that her sudden appearance was a sign and fate had intervened. He'd be a fool to miss his chance.

"Mare," he called over the sounds of shots being fired at the other end of the range.

Mary looked over at him.

"Last week, when I said I wished I hadn't slept with you," he began but paused when he saw Mary visibly flinch at the reminder.

Maybe now wasn't the best time to be having this conversation, he thought. After all, she did have a loaded gun in her hand. He ploughed on regardless. Fate would have its way, either way.

"I didn't mean it the way you perhaps took it."

"How did you mean it then, Numbnuts? There aren't that many ways to interpret 'I wish we'd never had sex' so I'm interested in what you actually meant," Mary spat at him as she turned away to take a shot.

"I meant that it's inevitably harder to live without something you're used to, than to make do without something that you've never had," Marshall tried to explain.

Mary relaxed her stance and turned back to him, "For Christ's sake, Marshall, can't you say anything without it sounding like a philosophical treaty with footnotes?"

Marshall took a breath, remembered who he was talking to and tried again, keeping it simple. "I'm sorry, Mare. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I don't regret sleeping with you and I never meant to hurt you by implying otherwise," he said, sincerely. "Is that simple enough for you?"

Mary wasn't entirely satisfied by his apology.

She cocked her head to one side, "Why did you say it then? If you didn't mean it?"

"You'd just the day before, rejected me. I was hurting and confused after meeting Gemma after all these years and you kept giving me mixed signals. I don't know what I was thinking. I know that those mornings I woke up next to you were the best mornings of my life and I miss that, and you, more than I can say."

Mary could feel herself blushing at his words. She let her hair fall forward to disguise it, but knew it was pointless as this was Marshall, the only person to ever see through her bravado. She didn't know what to say in response. Somehow telling him he was forgiven didn't seem enough and admitting she wouldn't mind repeating the experience seemed too much too soon. But she needed to say something.

She hooked her hair behind her ears again and looked Marshall in the eye.

"I looked in to transferring to DC, just in case you decided to move," she told him.

Marshall raised an eyebrow, inquisitive but with a hint of humour.

"I even researched places to live," she continued telling him.

He started to grin at her, finally reassured they'd be alright eventually.

Mary saw the smugness creep into his grin and couldn't let him have the last word, even a silent one.

She shrugged and gestured to the target at the end of his lane, "I couldn't loose a partner who can shoot like that," she said, admiring the closely clustered holes. "You're almost as good as I am."

Marshall knew a challenge when he heard one and indicated for her to take her shot as he put his ear defenders back on, determined to prove once and for all who was the better shot.


	64. Deck the Malls

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 64 – Deck the Malls**

"Are you going to call the cops?"

"Couldn't, even if I cared enough to want to," Marshall told his witness' teenage son as he escorted him from the mall where he had just been caught attempting to steal a $10 pair of earrings for his girlfriend.

The kid had called Marshall in lieu of his parents and somehow Mary had ended up being dragged along for the ride. The noise and crowds in the mall were wearing on her already strained nerves. She'd quickly got sick of the sight of doting couples with their noses pressed up against the glass, pointing out their favourite styles to each other in hope. To make matters worse, the Christmas music played on endless loop as she was struggling to carve a path through the holiday shoppers. She led the way relentlessly, Marshall and the kid following in her wake.

She didn't bother listening to Marshall paint a picture for the kid as to how the cops didn't need to be called because the Marshal Service's punishment was much worse than anything the local PD could administer. As Marshall outlined how the kid's actions could get the entire family kicked out of WITSEC, Mary tried to rein in her urge to beat the woman in front of her to make her either move faster or get out the way.

Suddenly, the shrill tone of Mary's phone pierced the general hubbub of the shoppers and she answered without looking at the ID.

"What?"

"There's been a change of plan about Christmas," a woman's voice told her.

"Huh?" she asked, finger in ear to try to drown out the background noise. "Who is this?"

"It's Ellen. Where the hell are you?"

"Hell's about right! I'm in a mall," she said with a glare in Marshall's direction.

"Urgh!" Ellen sympathised. "So, about Christmas?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Mary practically yelled.

"There's been a change of plan," Ellen said.

"There was a plan? I didn't know we'd made one," she told Ellen.

Ellen paused to think, "No, I don't think we did. Do you still think you'll be able to get Marshall to come for Christmas? Have you even mentioned it to him yet?"

"It was mentioned," Mary said glancing over her shoulder at the man in question. She dropped her voice as she continued, "I think he's forgotten about it."

"I just thought it might be better if you came to me for Christmas rather than going to our parents," Ellen suggested. "It might provide a more neutral setting."

"That would be easier to sell," Mary agreed.

"You don't sound sure," Ellen noted.

Mary checked to see that Marshall was still talking to his witness' son before answering, "Mmmm...We had a bad experience in DC a while ago. I'm not keen on going back any time soon."

"Bad experience?" Ellen asked, well aware of the sort of dangers involved in her brother's line of work even though she had never asked what he did.

"Yeah, I can't really say much at the moment," she told her.

"Are you both okay?"

"Physically, yes. I'll tell you more later," Mary promised, not wanting to discuss the particulars in front of Marshall and risk disrupting the fragile balance they had maintained over the week since their hug and the talk at the range.

"So, what are we saying about Christmas?" Ellen pushed.

Mary sighed. She had promised after all and it was only the location that was different from her original agreement.

"I'll call you back later so we can talk properly, but, yeah, we'll be there."

xxx

Marshall let himself back into his house and made his way to the living room. He dropped his recent purchases on the coffee table and immediately wondered if he had been too hasty in his choice of present for Mary.

He quickly scooted into his bedroom intending to retrieve the letter from Ellen. Mary's admission that she'd gone as far as to look into moving to DC in order to stay his partner had been what prompted him to pick this particular gift. The idea that she had been willing to put herself out for him and 'put up with Gemma' – her words, not his – showed she was committed to their relationship even if neither of them could define it at this point.

The last week had been better, it had almost been back to normal. They had laughed and bickered and if Marshall had brushed up against her accidentally, she would push him back rather than apologise. Their talk had seemed to have healed the worst of the wounds they had inflicted on each other. But the lingering pain was still there if either of them chose to focus on it. And he now wondered if his choice of present would further soothe their pain or if it would add yet more injury to old scars.

He had seen the item in question while retrieving the thieving brat of a child on behalf of his witness and had snuck back to the mall once he had been clear of Mary. At the time it had seemed perfect, but now he was wondering if she would read too much into it and freak out.

He found Ellen's letter and his eyes darted to the relevant passage as he walked slowly back to the living room.

_Just once, I'd like to see you fight for what you want, to hold on to what you have rather than letting it slip away because you think that's what someone else wants. _

If nothing else, he _wanted_ to give her this present and Ellen's words were giving him the confidence to do so. Consequences be damned.

He returned to the living room to the sound of his phone ringing.

"You were in DC and you didn't visit me? What kind of brother are you?"

"How did you know?" Marshall asked, surprised by the question that assailed him the second he answered his phone which instantly put him on the defensive.

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, little brother," Ellen revealed.

"Don't call me that," he told her, still surprised that his thoughts had seemingly summoned Ellen's call.

"What? Little brother? But you are..."

"Only by a couple of hours..." he pointed out sulkily.

"Stop pouting," Ellen said

Marshall looked around to see how she could know that he was pouting but he couldn't see anything in his living room that looked like it would double as a camera.

"And stop trying to see if I'm watching you. You're just _that_ predictable," she told him, smiling at his mumbled response, guessing that at least three of the four words he had mumbled were swear words and the fourth was probably 'you'.

"Mary said you two had a fight after running into Gemma," Ellen began, hoping Marshall would take the hint and fill her in on the rest.

When he didn't respond, she asked, "Why didn't you call me?"

Marshall ran his hand through his hair and said, "It's not the sort of thing we do. We've never involved each other with our personal problems. Why would I start now?"

"I don't know. I just thought after you helped me out last month, you'd let me return the favour."

Marshall laughed bitterly, "And what would you have done?"

"I would have told you to get you head out your ass and not throw away a good thing with Mary over a might-have-been with Gemma," she told him instantly.

Marshall picked Ellen's letter up off the sofa and glanced over it.

"Even after she cheated on me? You'd still pick her over Gemma?" he asked, looking at the letter and recalling the story he and Mary had spun to explain Raph's presence in Mary's life.

On the other end of the line, Ellen was quiet for a long time.

Finally, she said, "Do you remember when you broke up with Gemma? Hardly a morning went by when I wouldn't get up and find some strange woman in my kitchen. Yet, even as you proceeded to sleep your way through every brunette in the tri-state area, you never once looked as lost as the day I saw you get out the car.

"I don't know what had happened between you and Mary that day, but it was the day before that lunatic turned up throwing punches. I've never seen you look so down. When you broke up with Gemma, you were upset but more about possible repercussions to your job than the fact you'd split up with her. I don't know how, but over the years you've built her up into this perfect woman in your mind. And she wasn't, Marshall. I think you invested so much time focusing on what you lost, that you've forgotten what she was really like."

"Yeah, I was reminded of that recently," he said dryly.

"Good! You need a quick kick up the backside to make you stop obsessing over what you could have had and take a good long look at what you've got."

Marshall knew that Ellen didn't know the half of what had actually happened between him and Mary yet, once again, she had hit the nail on the head when it came to offering him advice.

"I have, Ellen. I can promise you that. I decided long ago that Mary was the one I want and you know how stubborn I can be when I set my heart on something. It's just taken me a while to do something about it."

"As long as you haven't given up on her," Ellen told him.

"No, I haven't, not yet," he said as he peered into the small bag on the coffee table.

"So I can tell Mom and Dad you'll both be here for Christmas, then? They're dying to meet your fiancée," she told him, having drawn the short straw in her conversation with Mary over who got to break the news to him.

Marshall slouched back on the sofa, knowing that, if Mary and Ellen had teamed up on him, there was no way out.

"Yeah, okay," he breathed, defeated.

xxx

Mary wandered around the men's section, looking at the shirts.

She paused every so often to feel the material but always carried on, always looking at the next shirt in the hope it would scream 'Marshall' at her.

Her phone call to Ellen had not only clarified the details of their trip to DC for Christmas, but also reminded Mary that she needed to do some Christmas shopping. Normally she didn't bother, just handing her mom and her sister some cash or, if she'd been particularly forward thinking, gift certificates.

Marshall and Stan were the only ones that she ever bought presents for and then only under duress as part of the office Secret Santa, although why the three of them ever bothered was beyond her. It was hardly a secret once you knew who one person had and every year either Stan or Marshall asked her opinion on what to get the other.

This year, though, the fact she was leaving her family to fend for themselves at Christmas was making her feel guilty, so she had decided to buy them actual presents that they could unwrap.

The crowds had thinned since that morning, unsurprising when there was only an hour left before closing, but the Christmas songs were still playing on an endless loop. She had rapidly found items for Jinx and Brandi that she thought each of them would enjoy, but then the list of people to buy for had extended to include Marshall when she realised that Ellen would think it odd if she didn't.

Which is what had lead her to her current dilemma; what to get Marshall?

She'd started in the book section, browsing through shelves of books she had no idea if he had or if he'd be interested in. She'd drifted to music and DVDs but found herself facing the same problem. She'd looked in the window of the jeweller's, considering buying him a watch and unconsciously rubbing her fading tan line every time her eyes drifted to the engagement rings, abruptly aware of the absence of the ring for the first time since she had returned it to Raph. When she could take the reminder no more, she had walked away, abandoning the best idea she'd had.

She'd loitered in the electronics store, knowing that Marshall was a gadget lover, until she got fed up of telling the shop assistants she had no idea what she was looking for. They'd each tried to sell her something, asking who she was buying for and suggesting the most popular gifts in whatever section they staffed. Some of the suggestions had been wildly inappropriate as Mary tested out different definitions of what Marshall was to her each time a different assistant asked.

On telling one assistant she was shopping for a friend, they had suggested an iTunes gift card. Mary had instantly rejected that idea and that label. Marshall was more than a friend.

She'd told the next assistant she was after something for her fiancé. She was quickly shown to the display of flat screen TVs and games consuls. Nothing there had a price tag within the range she had allocated and she had moved on. It seemed you were expected to spend a lot of money on your betrothed without a second thought and Mary couldn't afford to do that for Marshall.

As she was looking at the computer peripherals, the assistants there were adamant that she wanted something more fun for her partner. She agreed with them and was lead to the digital camera section where she was rapidly bombarded with technical specs that she didn't understand. The cameras were, at least, within her budget and something she could see her partner using.

She left the shop empty handed, reasoning that Marshall would get more pleasure out of researching and choosing his own gadgets than from anything she bought him. And that was assuming she got the right thing. She'd never hear the end of it if she picked something that didn't live up to his absurdly high standards when it came to electronics. No, she was much safer with something else, although she still had no idea what.

None of the shirts she was currently looking at looked like anything Marshall would wear. Regardless, she picked up a dress shirt and tie and took them to the counter. She wasn't happy with her selection, but at least she had something and could finally go home.

'Anyway', she told herself as she grudgingly handed over the money and made her way out the shop, 'he always wears a shirt and tie to court so it won't go to waste.'

As she walked out of the mall, dodging the other shoppers, something caught her eye that made her stop dead then laugh out loud.

Finally, she had found it; the perfect present for Marshall.


	65. Twas the Monday Before Christmas

**AN: **Thanks for all the suggestions for what they got each other, some of them really made me laugh.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 65 – 'Twas the Monday before Christmas**

Mary was in a sickeningly good mood Monday morning.

Marshall didn't know what had caused her good mood but wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was, however, curious by nature and couldn't resist probing a little.

"So, what's got you so cheerful this morning?"

"A good night's sleep and the prospect of a few days off," Mary said. "Have you asked Stan about that yet?"

"No," he replied grudgingly. "So you slept well?"

Mary was unphased by the subject change, knowing Marshall was still reluctant to discuss any aspect of the upcoming holiday.

"Yeah, no nightmares for two weeks and I was able to enjoy a long, hot, relaxing bath before bed since Jinx and Brandi were occupied watching a movie."

Marshall didn't reply, trying instead to banish the image of Mary in the bath from his mind.

Mary looked at him quickly before sitting down. "Mind out the gutter, Marshall," she chided, recognising the look on his face.

Marshall was flustered by her rebuke and the playful tone in which she administered it.

"Well, I'm glad one of us got some sleep last night," he said.

Mary looked up, concerned. It wasn't often that Marshall had trouble sleeping and it was even rarer that he admitted to it. She knew exactly what was going on in his mind, but he obviously didn't want to talk about it. Instead she decided to take his mind off his upcoming reunion with his parents.

"Aww...were you fretting over what to get me for Christmas?"

Marshall smiled, "No. I've already got you your present."

"Have you?"

"There's no need to sound so surprised. There's only a few days left. Don't tell me you're not ready?" he asked smugly.

"'Course I'm ready. I did all my shopping Saturday," she told him, equally as smug.

"You?" he raised an eyebrow at her, "You went shopping? And bought presents? New ones? With a specific person in mind?"

"Yeeeesssss," Mary hissed. "What did you get me?"

"It's a surprise," Marshall grinned.

"I hate surprises. Tell me, Marshall," Mary whined.

"Nope."

"Marshall, tell me," her whining took on a higher pitch.

"Fine. I got you a new dishcloth. I noticed yours needed replacing the last time you made me empty the dishwasher."

Mary stared at him, trying to decide if he was serious. She wouldn't put it past him to buy her a dishcloth, but there was something about him that made her think he was lying.

"No, you didn't," she said. "You're not that cheap. C'mon, what did you get me?"

"Oh, is a new dishcloth not good enough for my little princess? You want an expensive present, do you? Really, Mare, it's supposed to be the thought that counts," he laid the sarcasm on thick.

"If I am 'your little princess', then yes; I want something suitable for a princess! And I'm thinking more Cinderella after she marries Prince Charming, not before!"

"Fine. I didn't get you a dishcloth. I got you the moon on a string," he chanted.

"Come on, Marshall..."

"I got you a diamond ring," he dead-panned.

"Fine, don't tell me," she huffed.

Marshall grinned and they both turned to their work.

After a moment, Mary asked, "Should I get Ellen something?"

Marshall smiled his relaxed smile as he realised Mary was seriously considering buying his sister a present.

"It's alright, I got her something that you can add your name to."

"Okay."

Mary turned back to her work, shuffling bits of paper rather than actually doing anything.

"Is there anything else I should know about a typical Mann family Christmas?" she asked after a while.

Marshall looked at her and saw the usual insecurities coming to the surface. She was worried that her lack of experience of traditional family holidays would show and she would embarrass herself.

"I don't think you need to worry, Mare. This Christmas will be well within your realm of experience," he said, referring to her volatile family dynamic as well as his own.

Mary winced, "Is it going to be that bad?"

Marshall shrugged and changed the subject again, "What are we going to do about Ellen and the bet? She still thinks we're engaged."

"We could tell her the truth?" Mary suggested. "The bet's over. We've got nothing to lose."

"True. Or..." Marshall countered, "...we could not tell her?"

Mary peered at him.

"She's told my parents."

Mary waited.

"There's no reason to tell them otherwise," Marshall finished quietly, half-expecting Mary to tear him a new one for even suggesting maintaining the pretence.

Mary twirled a pen on her desk, watching it spin as she considered all the options. The week she had spent posing as Marshall's fiancée had been one of the most fun and easy weeks she had had. She recognised it had been before the shit had it the fan with Raph and then with Marshall, but it was still engraved in her memory as one of the best weeks of her life.

'How pathetic is that?' she thought before turning to Marshall and saying, "It _is_ only for a few days."

Marshall looked up, surprised.

"You don't have to," he offered, albeit reluctantly.

"If there's one thing I've learned from my family, it's to avoid any possible sources of conflict," she advised.

"So, we're still 'engaged' then?" he clarified.

"Sure," Mary said, smiling but trying not to sound too keen, "I can put up with you for a few more days."

xxx

"Stan?" Marshall called as he stuck his head into the other man's office.

Stan waved him in but didn't look up. Marshall took a seat and waited for Stan to finish.

"What's up?" Stan asked after a moment.

"It's about time off over the holiday," Marshall began.

"Mary's already asked me," Stan said dismissively.

Marshall perked up, hoping that he'd be told they couldn't both have time off at the same time.

His hopes were dashed as Stan continued, "She told me to tell you; 'There's no way in hell you're getting out of going home for Christmas, so suck it up!' I've already cleared it with HQ for you both to take the 23rd off."

"Oh. Okay," Marshall sighed.

His final chance at getting out of a family Christmas had just gone up in smoke. Yet even as he was cursing his bad luck, the thought occurred to him that it may not be all bad. Mary's ready agreement to maintain the charade of an engagement had provided a silver lining to the upcoming nightmare. Perhaps her presence would distract his parents enough so that it wouldn't be as bad as he thought. Or failing that, _he_ would have some distraction; someone to talk to and commiserate with, when his dad refused to talk to him.

And then there were the nights.

Marshall was filled with a mixture of excitement and dread at the prospect of sharing a bed with Mary again. He wanted to be able to wake up with her in his arms, to have that closeness and trust with her again. He wanted the dream. But he was also dreading the reality. What if she didn't want that? They had got back to normal quickly after their talk at the shooting range and the last week had passed in a flurry of jokes and insults as they went about their work.

But that had been in their normal situations, Marshall wasn't sure if their relationship and recently regained trust would stand the test of being thrown into bed together so soon after their fight. Would he be able to cope with having Mary in his bed, but not being able to touch her if that's what she insisted? To have the dream within his reach but not reach out and grasp it? He didn't think he could. Even after all that had happened, he was sure that his arms would still seek her out of their own volition and he would be powerless to stop them.

So much depended on Mary's response.

Yet, if her willingness to agree to the pretence this morning was any indication, he may not need to worry. She had walked into the arrangement with her eyes open and with very little thought. If the anticipation of seeing his parents hadn't put him in a foul mood that morning, he'd have taken that as a good sign. A sign that perhaps she was thinking about him in a more than friendly way. If he'd been in a better mood, he would have spent hours replaying the conversation in his mind, examining it for any nuance or look or phrasing that would give him hope. But thanks to his parents' impending visit, he didn't stop to consider the wistful look on Mary's face as she realised that it would only be for a few days.

"If you want more time..." Stan offered, breaking Marshall's reverie.

"No, that's alright," Marshall said hastily, "We're only going for three days, and a day travelling either side, we'll be back by Monday."

"Okay, if you're sure..."

"Oh, yes. Very sure."

"Did I hear you say, earlier, that you and Mary are still engaged?"

"Ah. Yeah, about that...we're not actually engaged. It's just part of a bet that got out of hand," Marshall explained.

"So, you're not together then?"

"No."

"Funny. Eleanor seems to think you are," Stan said causally. Watching Marshall's expression carefully he added, " And she's very rarely wrong about these things."

"Well, she's wrong this time," Marshall said defensively.

"Shame," Stan muttered, just loud enough for Marshall to hear. "Now get out, unless you want to spend the next half hour making small talk with the ADA for me," he added, holding out the phone receiver to him.

Marshall quickly made his excuses and left the room, wondering if he had misheard or misunderstood Stan's 'shame'.

xxx

"I can't believe you're not going to be here for Christmas," Brandi said as she leant in the doorway to Mary's bedroom, watching her pack.

"I'm sorry, Squish, but Marshall's sister invited me and I couldn't get out of it," Mary lied, not wanting to tell her sister that she'd rather spend the holiday with someone else's family than her own.

"Oh, well, at least we have presents," Brandi said, walking over and picking up the scruffily wrapped present on the end of the bed, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey, stop that!" Mary took the gift away from her. "Do you know how long it took me to wrap that? You're not to open it until Christmas."

"Oh, come on, Mare. You're such a spoilsport."

"No. Wait 'til Christmas like everyone else."

"What did you get Marshall?" Brandi asked, still eyeing her present speculatively.

"I got him a shirt and a lamp."

"A lamp?"

"Yeah, it's an alien abduction lamp," Mary said distracted as she picked which clothes to take with her.

"Does it signal them to come and get you?"

"Huh?" Mary looked up.

"Does it, you know, signal them that here's someone to abduct or does it prevent them from beaming you up or whatever?" Brandi asked, intrigued.

"Neither, Squish, it's just a lamp."

"Yeah, but what makes it an alien abduction lamp?"

"It's shaped like a UFO beaming up a cow."

"Oh," Brandi sounded disappointed that it didn't do more. "Can I see it?"

"No, I've already wrapped it," Mary said as she pulled her skirt out the closet and glared at it as if it was a witness to be interrogated.

Brandi noticed the direction of her gaze and wondered why Mary was thinking of taking a skirt with her when she never wore them. The last time she had seen Mary wear one was at Thanksgiving, when she and Marshall had apparently been caught making out on Mary's bed.

"Have you wrapped the shirt, too?" Brandi asked, slyly beginning to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go.

"No, it's on the side over there. I'm still not sure about it," Mary revealed.

Brandi wandered over and picked the shirt up, examining it from all angles.

"You don't normally worry about what you get him, do you?"

"No, but..." Mary tailed off as she changed her mind on the skirt and hung it back up.

"But what?" Brandi pressed.

"But," Mary paused as she tried to recall what she had been about to say. She didn't want to tell Brandi that she was trying to impress him, show him that she could be the sort of person that he could date. She wasn't sure she wanted to admit that to herself yet. So she changed direction, "But his sister and parents are going to be there. I don't want them to think I'm not good enough for him."

Brandi knew that wasn't what she'd been about to say, but was surprised that she got that much honesty from Mary.

"Do you think he'll like it?" Mary asked, still wanting a second opinion on her choice.

"Yeah, I think he will," Brandi said, focusing on the shirt again. "I think he'd like whatever you got him, just because it's from you."

"I hope so," Mary whispered, ignoring the second half of the comment as she returned to her packing.

"So are you going as his girlfriend then?"

"Why do you ask that?" Mary said, instantly suspicious.

"Well, a shirt is a very girlfriend-y thing to buy a man," Brandi pointed out.

"Is it?"

She wasn't experienced at buying presents for people, but couldn't quite bring herself to trust Brandi's assessment of the subtle undertones of gift giving.

"Yeah, it says 'I know you well enough that I know your shirt size and I spend so much time with you that I care about your appearance and want you to look nice'," Brandi informed her.

"I've never known a shirt say all that," Mary scoffed.

"Think about it, Mare. Would you buy your boss a shirt?"

"No, I wouldn't know where to beginning picking one for Stan," she said with a smile as she imagined the look on Stan's face as he unwrapped a shirt from her.

"Would you buy Peter a shirt?"

"No, that's your job," Mary replied instantly then stared at Brandi as the implications sank in.

Brandi gave her a second to process what she had just said, then asked quietly, "Did you ever buy Raph a shirt?"

"No, he could buy his own. I wasn't going to do his shopping for him!"

Brandi gave her a pointed look.

"Alright!" Mary conceded, "A shirt can say all that."

She glanced around the room to see of she'd missed anything. The skirt hanging on the closet door caught her eye.

"Do you think it's too much?" she asked.

"Giving Marshall a shirt? Or taking a skirt with you?" Brandi clarified.

"Either. Both."

Brandi sighed, amazed that her sister could be so sure and confident in every aspect of her life, yet didn't know what to give her best friend for Christmas or whether to take a skirt with which to entice him.

"Take both," Brandi advised, "He'll like the shirt and like you in the skirt even more."

"I don't have any more wrapping paper," Mary noted.

"I've got one of those gift bags you can have," Brandi offered.

Brandi left to retrieve the bag in question and when she returned, found Mary still hesitating over the skirt.

"Look. Do you want to seduce him or not?"

"What?" Mary snapped, surprised, not having heard Brandi return.

Brandi just gave her a dirty look which Mary returned, daring her to say something as she lifted the skirt down, once again, and placed it in her bag, just in case.

* * *

**AN: **Anyone that wants to see the lamp Mary's got Marshall can do so at: www. firebox. com/product/2551 /Alien-Abduction-Lamp?via=ser (You'll need to take the spaces out – there's three of them). Thanks to Roar526 for finding that for me and her many other helpful comments.


	66. Great Expectations

**AN: **Thanks to Roar526 for reading the first, abortive attempt, the second, badly organised version and this, the final draft, of this chapter. And to BuJyo for reminding me it's Friday.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 66 – Great Expectations**

Marshall shifted nervously as he stood on Ellen's doorstep.

They had left Albuquerque early that morning to ensure the maximum time possible with Ellen before his parents showed up. The flight had been a painfully long one. It seemed to Marshall that each flight between Albuquerque and Washington was doomed to be three hours of desperate soul searching. Last time, it had been Gemma's words that had filled his mind and had ultimately led to the horrible things he had said to Mary on the drive back from the airport. Today, it was recollections of past words and years of silence that occupied his thoughts while he hoped that Mary wouldn't run screaming from his family.

He was dreading seeing his parents again after all these years. He had no idea what sort of reception awaited him when they arrived, but he wasn't expecting it to be pleasant. He half hoped there would be yelling. Yelling he could cope with, Mary had trained him well in that regard. What he couldn't cope with, was the silence. A silence that failed to even acknowledge his existence, yet managed to disapprove of every thing he said or did. He smiled wryly as he conjured up several scenarios in which Mary lost her patience with his dad and told him all the things Marshall would never dream of saying to the man.

But that was if she stuck around long enough. He knew she was used to dealing with dysfunctional families, but this was _his_ family and he was supposed to be the one she came to when hers was getting her down. He couldn't see a single reason that she'd be willing to deal with his family's problems, even if it was only for a few days. In fact, he still wasn't sure why she had agreed to come with him. She hated family get-togethers and yet she had not only agreed to come with him, but also to maintain the charade that they were engaged. He wondered just what she was expecting from him and his family, and thought that maybe he should have taken the time and prepared her for the worst.

He looked once more at the doorbell, knowing that Mary was waiting for him to ring it so they could get out of the cold.

Mary was still standing on the sidewalk, hands on hips, staring up at the Georgetown brownstone in awe. She kept muttering to herself. Marshall couldn't hear what she was saying, but knew it was something to do with the cost of such a house. He blocked her out as he took a deep breath and finally summoned up the courage to push the doorbell.

He turned back to Mary, finding her still regarding the building. His movement drew her attention and she looked in his direction. She recognised the desire to leave in his stance and smiled reassuringly at him. She joined him on the doorstep and rested a lightly restraining hand on his upper arm just as the door opened.

"Mom and Dad are here," Ellen whispered.

"What?" Marshall whispered back furiously, "They weren't supposed to get here until tomorrow!"

"I know," Ellen muttered as she ushered them into the hallway. "Dad was at an award thing for a friend yesterday and didn't see the point of going home."

Marshall stood in the open doorway, unmoving and silent, for a long moment before responding.

"I'm going to need a stiff drink," he replied, trying to make light of the situation as he pushed the door closed and wondered if there was any other escape route.

Mary took off her coat and tried to peer into the nearest open doorway, hoping to get her first glimpse of Marshall's parents. As she handed the coat to Ellen, she spotted Marshall hovering near the door, looking like he was about to bolt. She had only managed to convince him to come by assuring him that he would have a day that was just them with Ellen and now that had been shot to hell.

She moved over to him, standing so close that he couldn't help but acknowledge her. She leaned up and kissed him gently, whispering in his ear, "It'll be okay."

Marshall was stunned into stillness. His lips tingled where Mary's had touched them. He barely noticed as she took his hand and led him down the hall after Ellen.

Ellen led the way into a large, brightly decorated room. On the sofa sat a man and woman in their late sixties. The woman was slightly shorter than Mary, slim and had the easily recognisable Mann profile and colouring, albeit tinged with grey. The man was stockier than Marshall, with dirty blond hair cropped close to his head and it was obviously his height that both Marshall and Ellen had inherited.

The woman stood as they entered the room, her eyes never leaving Marshall as she approached him and enveloped him in a hug.

Mary watched, smiling as Marshall murmured, "Hi, Mom," and returned the hug.

"Dad, this is Mary," Ellen introduced, giving Marshall and his mom a moment.

"Deputy Marshal Charles Mann," he introduced himself rigidly.

"Mary Shannon," Mary replied, shaking his hand and wondering if she could call him Charles; she was unsure how one addressed a potential father-in-law, even a pretend one.

"So, Ellen tells me you're a Marshal as well?" he asked.

"That's right, almost ten years now," she answered, distracted by the fact that Marshall's mom was still hugging him.

"Good, we need more people like you in the service."

Mary looked at him puzzled; how did he know what sort of person she was and if the service needed her?

She had approached the prospect of meeting Marshall's parents with an open mind, wanting to judge them on her own terms and not be too influenced by Marshall's opinions. But Charles Mann had already succeeded in rubbing her the wrong way.

Finally, Marshall was released by his mom and Mary made her way over to introduce herself.

"Mary Shannon," she said again, reaching out to shake the woman's hand.

"I'm Sandra," Mary was told. "It's nice to meet you," she added hastily before turning back to Marshall, effectively dismissing Mary.

"I can't believe you got engaged," Sandra said to her son.

Marshall shrugged, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, I can't believe it either," Mary teased.

Sandra's eyes darted in Mary's direction, but she made no reply, only shifted slightly to cut Mary out of any further conversation. Mary made eye contact with Marshall over the top of his mom's head and saw the silent plea in his eyes to not cause a fuss.

She glanced around the room and saw Ellen coming back in with a glass in her hand. Mary watched as she handed it to Marshall and guessed that Ellen had taken Marshall at his word about needing a stiff drink. He accepted it without question. Ellen winked at him before turning to the other occupants of the room and saying, "What does everyone want to drink?"

When no one responded, Ellen broke the awkward silence, "I have wine, spirits, coffee, soda, water, juice..."

"Coffee," Charles said instantly, "It's too early for alcohol."

Out of Charles' view Marshall drained his glass and signalled Ellen for a refill.

xxx

Marshall was on his third scotch.

Mary had settled for a soft drink, wanting to keep a clear head although she was beginning to wonder if Marshall's approach was the more sensible one. His mom was just doing enough to stay on the polite side of ignoring Mary while his dad seemed more than happy to regale her with stories of how things used to be done in the marshal service.

Mary found the entire set up weird and not at all what she had expected.

Marshall rarely talked about his mom, yet after observing the two of them, it was obvious he was a closet Mommy's Boy. Sandra hadn't stopped mothering him since he had walked through the door and while Marshall made a show of being frustrated, embarrassed and impatient with it all, Mary could see he was secretly enjoying it.

His dad, on the other hand, was mentioned often, although nearly always in the past tense. Mary had thought for the first couple of years that she had known Marshall, that his dad was dead. It was only when she had seen him send his dad a birthday card that she had realised her error. Marshall always spoke of his dad with respect and made no effort to conceal how proud he was of his family's history of service and the fact he had followed in their footsteps. Yet they had been in the same room as each other for over an hour and neither man had acknowledged the other.

'Definitely weird,' Mary thought, intrigued, as she concentrated on trying to understand the Mann family dynamic.

xxx

Marshall sat in the living room with his parents. His dad still hadn't spoken to him or even looked in his direction. Marshall sipped his drink slowly as he wondered just what exactly he had expected from this reunion.

In the years since he had last seen his dad there had been no contact, despite his occasional overtures to initiate conversation. Finally he had given up, resigning himself to the fact that his dad wanted nothing to do with him.

"Tell me about Albuquerque?" his mom asked.

"What's to tell?" Marshall responded morosely.

Charles shifted slightly, his disapproval evident in his movement, so much so that a vocal criticism of Marshall's tone was rendered superfluous, even if Charles had been inclined to voice it.

Marshall sighed loudly and allowed his head to loll back onto the back of the sofa.

"Albuquerque was established in 1706 by the Spanish as a _presidio_, or fortress town. It's named after the Spanish town of Alburquerque, near the Spain-Portugal border which has been under both Spanish and Portuguese rule over the centuries. Interestingly Albuquerque, New Mexico is spelled with only one 'R', which is the Portuguese spelling. The Spanish town has an additional 'R' before the first 'Q'," Marshall recited without thought, the alcohol in his system not impairing his ability to recall even the obscurest fact about his home town.

"I didn't ask for a history lesson, Honey, I want to know what it's _like_..." his mom told him, wanting to hear any details about his life, but having been married to a marshal long enough to know better than to ask about work.

"The Old Town is the oldest surviving section of town, it has a range of eating places and bars," Marshall shifted the topic of discussion but still sounded like a talking tour guide. He noticed his mom sigh quietly and relented a little, "We occasionally eat there, but mostly we go to a diner just the other side of the office. Mary likes the breakfast burrito so we tend to go there a lot."

"Breakfast burrito? She sounds classy, your fiancée."

Charles scoffed at his wife's words, "You don't need to be 'classy' to be a good marshal."

"I'm sure you don't," Sandra agreed, "but some find it's a desirable quality to have in a wife."

"Yes, well, a good marshal and a good wife are two completely different things," Charles told her.

Marshall wondered if it was just the alcohol that was making him feel like his parents were discussing something other than the fact that a breakfast burrito wasn't the 'classiest' of meals. He was fed up of being ignored, though, and couldn't help adding, "Mary's both. Or at least she will be when we're married."

"Have you set a date yet?" Sandra asked, she may not like Mary, but that was because of her own issues and she'd be damned if she was going to miss her son's wedding just because she couldn't let go of something that happened twenty years ago.

Marshall shook his head, he couldn't think clearly enough to remember if he and Mary had come up with a back story about their relationship. Fortunately, he was saved by Mary and Ellen's appearance.

"Mare, Mom wants to know if we've set a date," he called across the room.

Mary came and sat next to him on the sofa, handing him a fresh drink as she did so. She hiked her legs up and leant into him slightly. Marshall looped his arm around her and pulled her close. She tensed at the contact, but quickly relaxed into his embrace.

"No, we haven't," Mary told Sandra. "We haven't been engaged all that long. It was just before Ellen showed up in fact," she added, earning a silly grin and a kiss on the temple from Marshall as he got the reference.

"We haven't really had time to make any plans," she finished.

"June," Sandra declared. "It's traditional to marry in June."

"December's better," Ellen put in, "It's got the lowest divorce rate."

"That doesn't give me much time," Mary joked. "Although it does make things simpler. Vegas it is!"

"Lets go," Marshall said, making as if to get up.

Mary slapped him lightly, "Sit still, Fidget, I just got comfortable."

"Sorry," he smiled as he resumed his former position.

"These things shouldn't be rushed," Charles announced to the room at large, although it was obvious he was directing his criticism at Marshall. "A wedding is a symbol of the impending marriage and these things require planning."

"I don't know," Mary said, wanting to defend Marshall from his father's veiled attacks, "I don't think the wedding itself has much to do with the quality of the marriage. I'd rather have a quick, simple wedding and a long marriage than the other way around."

"But you'll have a proper wedding dress, won't you? Will you be wearing white?" Sandra asked, concerned that her best chance of a big family wedding was diminishing in front of her eyes.

Marshall felt Mary become increasingly tense as the questions about their wedding continued.

"Mom, we really haven't decided anything yet. I think we'd both be happy with a long engagement, so don't start sending out invites or anything," Marshall said, hoping to distract attention away from Mary.

Mary recognised what he was doing and was grateful. Even when tipsy, Marshall was still looking out for her and protecting her from danger. Today the only danger was from their lies unravelling and her losing her temper as she tried to answer questions to which there were no answers.

"You will at least tell us when you're getting married, won't you?" Ellen asked.

"Of course," Marshall assured, knowing that he'd probably never have to keep his promise.

"So, when are you going to get married, Ellen?" Charles asked, effectively cutting Marshall out of the conversation once again.

Ellen sighed and asked, "More drinks anyone?"

Marshall rapidly emptied his glass and handed it to her.

xxx

Sandra didn't know what she was expecting from Ellen's description of Marshall's fiancée, but Mary wasn't it.

She supposed she should be grateful as Marshall had made it perfectly clear that he wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for Mary, but she still couldn't bring herself to like the woman.

The bossy attitude when it came to Marshall irritated her and her flippant take on her impending marriage showed a lack of comprehension as to what it took to make a successful marriage. She was amazed that someone so bossy and forthright could be so flaky and disorganised when it came to wedding arrangements.

No, Mary wasn't what she'd expected at all.

She guessed she'd been expecting someone more like Gemma. Someone who knew what it took to be a wife and mother. Somehow she couldn't imagine Mary dealing with a crying child or tending a scrapped knee. Gemma may have been a socialite and out for what she could get, but at least she was prepared to marry and have a family once she had the life she wanted.

It was just a shame that Marshall hadn't been able to provide her with the lifestyle she had so desperately desired. Sandra couldn't help but grudgingly respect her for knowing what she wanted and going after it, regardless of who she hurt. Unfortunately, it had been her son standing in her way and she could never forgive Gemma for hurting him, but that didn't stop Sandra being envious of that sort of single mindedness.

She often contemplated how different her life would be if she'd been less willing to bend to her husband's wishes at the expense of her own dreams and desires. She couldn't help but think she would have been happier, that Charles wouldn't have...

She didn't want that sort of life for Marshall, always being walked on just because he was too weak to stand up to his wife/partner. And she could _so _easily imagine Mary in the role of nagging wife to his downtrodden husband.

Of course, Sandra knew she'd been predisposed to dislike Mary the instant Ellen had said Marshall was engaged to his partner...


	67. Drunk and Disorderly

**AN: **Thanks to roar526 for the chapter title and her usual, sterling work as a beta.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 67 – Drunk and Disorderly**

Ellen had made a late lunch of sandwiches and nibbles and was pleased the meal was proceeding uneventfully.

The morning had passed quickly considering the weird tension that permeated the room every time Marshall and his dad were forced to breathe the same air. Marshall had numbed his over-active mind with alcohol and now seemed content to ignore the other man, just as he was being ignored.

Mary couldn't help but smile as Marshall told Sandra and Ellen about his mambo lessons. His carefully controlled, but extravagant, hand movements telling her he was drunk as they etched out the salient points for the other women.

"So, there I was, in the middle of the office, practising the steps when my boss comes in. He's talking to Mary but he keeps looking at me, obviously wondering what I'm doing. Then he said, 'For God's sake, you're a US Marshal, act like one!' and I was expecting him to tell me stop. But then he showed me how to do it with attitude. I couldn't believe it. We ended up mambo-ing around the office."

Ellen and Sandra smiled. Charles stared at his plate, determined to ignore the conversation. Mary rolled her eyes, realising Marshall was too drunk to tell the story properly.

"What Marshall forgot to tell you, is that our boss is about 5' 7", practically bald and it was him that was leading this lanky beanpole around the office," Mary elaborated, gesturing to the man sat next to her at the table.

Ellen and Sandra's grins grew as they could see the image more clearly.

"It's amazing you get any work done," Charles said, addressing Mary directly as if she had told the entire story.

Mary felt Marshall shift angrily next to her at being ignored and unobtrusively slid a hand under the table and onto his thigh to calm him slightly. His hand soon covered hers and she felt him caress the back of her fingers with his thumb.

Suddenly, she was transported to later that evening, when they would be getting into bed together and Marshall would be upset and she would curl up close to him to comfort him and as Marshall calmed his hands would roam over her body. Stroking. Caressing. Loving. And she would lean in to kiss him and their tongues would meet and...

Her hand tightened involuntarily on Marshall's thigh as she dipped her head to hide the fact that such a slight touch had stoked her appetite for Marshall so thoroughly. She shifted as she struggled to refocus on the conversation around her and felt the moisture pooled in her panties.

Brandi's words echoed in her brain, _"Do you want to seduce him or not?"_

That was the 64 thousand-dollar question that had been buzzing around Mary's brain since late last night.

The having-sex-with-Marshall aspect of that question was a no brainer. Her reaction to his causal touch proved that. But the prospect of sex with Marshall was much more complicated than just a matter of desire. He wanted more than just a physical relationship and she wasn't sure she was ready for that so soon after Raph. Even if she was prepared to commit to him, she doubted she'd ever get the chance anyway. Their friendship had been repaired over the last week but they had both steered clear of discussion of anything more. She didn't think Marshall was willing to give it a go with her. And even if he was, he'd never he be prepared to wait until she was sure of herself.

Suddenly she viewed their upcoming night together with much more hesitation than she had when he had first suggested it.

xxx

Marshall leant on the kitchen counter. His head was swimming. Whether it was from the alcohol or his dad's words, he couldn't tell.

He still couldn't believe his dad had just said that to him.

So far, the entire day had consisted of little comments like that last one, most of which Marshall could ignore. But the last snide comment had crossed the line, driving Marshall into the kitchen to collect his thoughts, not wanting his dad to see just how deeply his words cut.

And they hadn't even been addressed to him. No, it was just another seemingly innocent comment thrown out to the room at large in response to something Mary said.

Mary, whom his dad had instantly declared the perfect marshal. The one thing he had spent years teaching Marshall. The one title Marshall had always strove to achieve had been bestowed on Mary within minutes.

_"We need more people like you in the service,"_ he had declared.

Mary had looked put out at his words. Confused by the snap judgement and respecting Charles less because of it. But she didn't know that it was more about Marshall's inadequacies in his dad's eyes than her qualities.

No, Mary didn't do passive aggressive.

She was direct and confrontational. Her family inflicted clean, open wounds on each other then came together to heal.

No, she hadn't been schooled to inflict damage that would linger, unseen, unattended, until infection set in and it was too late.

Marshall reached for the bottle on the worktop and poured himself another shot, hoping the alcohol's antiseptic nature would purge his infected soul.

xxx

"You alright?" Ellen asked as she and Mary made some more drinks.

"Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?"

"You were very quiet through lunch," Ellen said as she poured her dad a glass of wine.

Mary said nothing while the reason she'd been so quiet occurred to her.

"Well, bits of lunch," Ellen amended. "Something on your mind?"

Mary considered what to tell her until she settled on the partial truth as she knew it would embarrass Marshall when he was sober enough to realise what she had done.

"No, nothing like that," she replied with a wicked grin.

Ellen leant on the worktop and signalled for her to continue.

"Your brother just had a bad case of wandering hands," Mary said, still grinning, "He was making it...uhmm...hard to concentrate."

"Ewww...I didn't need to know that!"

"You did ask," Mary said.

"Still..."

"He gets very...um...amorous when he's drunk," Mary added, pleased she had made Ellen squirm with too many details of her brother's love life. "Speaking of which, do you think we should water that down?"

Ellen regarded the glass in her hand as she poured Marshall yet another scotch.

"No, he's a big boy, he knows when to stop," she said. "Plus, I've never seen him drunk; it should be fun."

"I have, and it's not," Mary said quietly, thinking of the night she had found him in the office after emptying her bottle of scotch.

That was just after he'd found out about hers and Raph's engagement. At the time, she hadn't linked the two events. Or perhaps she hadn't wanted to link them; perhaps she hadn't wanted to be responsible for Marshall's pain that night.

Still, she reasoned now, if he had been feeling the effects of her engagement that strongly, perhaps he had loved her even then. That certainly put the words of his toast in a new light.

'Maybe, just maybe...' she thought.

xxx

Marshall made his way down the hallway, arm outstretched so he could steady himself on the wall. He was heading, unsteadily, back from the bathroom. The girls had left him to make more drinks in the kitchen and he had taken the opportunity to escape his parent's presence as the quantity of alcohol he had consumed finally had the inevitable effect.

He slowed as he approached the base of the stairs.

The gap in his wall-based support system presented a problem. More so because of the side table covered in photo frames that he had to navigate before he even got to the opening.

He eyed the area warily, searching for the best route across. As he weighed the likelihood of being able to hold onto the table without knocking over all the photos, voices drifted out of the living room.

"...her."

"She's a marshal. Of course she's not lovey-dovey," he heard his dad reply.

"Oh, for God's sake!" his mom snapped back. "Will you just stop judging everyone by which branch of law enforcement they belong to, for one Goddamn moment! I honestly don't care if she's a marshal or a meter maid, as long as she loves Marshall."

His dad mumbled something that Marshall couldn't make out, although he guessed from the tone that it was something about the importance of the marshal service.

His mom's slightly raised voice was easier to make out as she said, "Well, if you'd actually look at your son, you might have seen what I've seen. You're the observant one after all, Marshal Mann."

"And what do you _think_ you've you seen?" Charles' voice now matched his wife's in volume and Marshall was surprised at the scepticism in it.

"They seem uncomfortable touching," Sandra said quietly, making Marshall lean forward to hear what was being said. "They don't act like a couple that's just got engaged..."

Marshall had been supporting himself on the side table to stop the world spinning. Unfortunately, as he had edged forward to hear his mom's words, the majority of his weight had come to rest on one end causing the table to tip precariously. The movement dislodged several of the picture frames and they clattered to the floor.

The sudden noise made Marshall jump.

In his drunken state the sudden movement and subsequent loss of support proved to be his undoing. He stumbled a few steps backwards, colliding with the wall with a loud thud. As he rebounded, he felt one of the picture frames underfoot. Desperate not to smash the frame, he lifted his foot awkwardly and felt himself slowly losing his balance. He searched frantically for a clear spot on the floor to put his foot down, but only succeeded in making himself more dizzy.

Finally he gave in to the falling sensation, closing his eyes and hoping for the best.

Only when all movement had ceased, including his head spinning, did he open his eyes.

He found himself laying on his back in the hallway, on top of several photo frames, with Mary and Ellen staring down at him.

The commotion in the hall had drawn them out from the kitchen.

They both grinned at him and he knew his burgeoning headache would only in part be due to his fall. The remainder would be from the endless teasing he would get over the coming days.

"Hi," he said nonchalantly, as if he did this everyday.

Mary and Ellen burst into giggles.

Marshall waited for them to stop, but when they didn't after a few seconds, he said, "A little help here, please," sticking one hand in the air.

Mary reached out and helped him up, Ellen recovered enough to grab his other arm and help too.

"Jesus, Marshall, I thought I was done picking drunks off the floor when I left home," Mary said, still laughing.

"Sorry," he murmured just as he caught sight of his mom in the living room doorway.

Charles stood next to her with his hand on her arm, reassuring or restraining Marshall couldn't tell. As he straightened up, he saw the look of disgust in his father's eyes as the man turned away, going back into the other room. Sandra noticed the direction of his gaze and the way Marshall's smile froze on his face as the humour faded from his eyes. He looked to his mom, silently questioning, but she could only shrug and join the other women as they escorted him back to the safety of the sofa.

xxx

"So what do you make of Mary?" Ellen asked her mom as they admired the drapes in the guest bedroom.

Sandra shifted awkwardly, "I'm sure she's very nice."

"You don't like her," Ellen stated.

"I didn't say that..."

"You didn't need to," Ellen smirked.

"I'm sure she'll grow on me. After all, she did manage to get Marshall and your dad in the same room."

"Yeah, that takes some doing. Although, I honestly thought if we could get them together, they'd make up. Maybe not instantly, but I thought they'd at least talk to each other enough to be polite and that would be a start," Ellen said with a sigh.

"I didn't realise Marshall could be so stubborn..." Sandra replied, gazing out the window at the street below.

Ellen jerked back towards her, "Marshall? He's not the one being stubborn, Mom. It's Dad. And I have to say I'm on Marshall's side with this one."

"Does there have to be sides?" Sandra asked wearily.

"No, but we both know Marshall has been the one to make all the overtures and Dad's ignored them all. Have you noticed that he won't even look at him?"

"You have to see your dad's side of this, too," Sandra tried, not wanting to take sides but sticking up for her husband anyway.

"He over reacted, Mom. I can see being pissed at what happened, but it's gone on for years. That's just stubborn and spiteful. I can see why Marshall isn't willing to try anymore."

"Has he completely given up?"

"I don't know. And I don't know how he puts up with it. With him."

"Ellen, please, he's still your father."

"I know. It's just hard to watch."

"I understand. I'll try talking to your dad again, if you try talking to Marshall. It seems a shame to waste the opportunity to get them talking. But I don't know what good it will do. Your dad's never listened to me before...at least, not about this."

Ellen nodded, "Come on, we should get back before there's a body to bury." She paused, cocking her head to one side thoughtfully, "Although that would at least mean that one of them acknowledged the other."

Sandra smiled weakly at Ellen's joke and headed downstairs, Ellen close behind.

xxx

"You left me alone with him," Marshall slurred accusingly as he stumbled into the kitchen.

Mary was taking a breather from Charles Mann's unending stories about the marshal service in the 70s and 80s. The 1870s and 80s, that was, as Charles seemed reluctant to discuss anything that had happened in either of their lifetimes for fear of revealing a state secret, Mary supposed. Her head had been about to explode from all the trivia and dates he was telling her, so she had excused herself and hidden in the kitchen, unaware that Ellen had agreed to give Sandra a tour of the house, leaving Marshall alone with his dad.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Marshall moved toward her, swaying slightly, and put his glass down on the worktop. Mary watched as he moved to stand directly in front of her, mere inches away from her, where she leant against the counter. He rested his forehead against hers and his arms snaked around her waist. She uncrossed her arms and placed them on his shoulders to steady him slightly.

"I forgive you," he murmured quietly as he kissed her neck.

"Marshall," she breathed, unsure how she was going to finish that sentence.

He switched his attention to her lips and she found her hands sliding off his shoulders and round his neck as she pulled him closer. She opened her mouth slightly and instantly found it filled with his tongue as he explored, taking advantage of her willingness and the false confidence provided by the scotch.

"And you've already seen the kitchen," Ellen said as she pushed open the door.

Mary gently disentangled her tongue from Marshall's as Ellen and Sandra entered the room, but didn't manage to break Marshall's hold on her waist.

Sandra looked disapprovingly at Mary as she replied to Ellen, "Indeed I have."

Ellen grinned knowingly at the pair next to the sink, addressing her comment to her mom as she did so, "So there's nothing new in here, then. Lets go find Dad."

Mary wiped her mouth as she watched them leave, hoping her lipstick wasn't too smeared.

"Your mom doesn't like me," she said to Marshall when the women had left.

"I like you," he replied as he once more started kissing her.

She pushed him away gently. "You taste of scotch."

"So? You like scotch."

"True," she said as she let him kiss her again; everyone thought they were engaged, they'd already been walked in on and Sandra didn't like her anyway so there really was no reason not to.


	68. In the Heat of the Night

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 68 – In the Heat of The Night**

"What the hell was that?" Mary asked breathlessly when Marshall finally gave her enough space and breath to do so.

They were still standing in the kitchen, Mary pressed up against the worktop as passion had got the better of Marshall. When he had broken off the kiss, he hadn't let go of her. Instead he had slipped his hands out of her hair and encircled her with his arms, holding her so tightly Mary wondered if he was trying to crush her. When his grasp had loosened she had remained where she was, catching her breath and enjoying the feel of human contact after a long period without.

"I heard my mom saying that we didn't act couple-y, so I thought we should practise," he murmured into her hair.

"Oh," was all Mary could think to reply, slightly dismayed.

She wasn't sure how she felt about being his 'homework' from his mom. She surprised herself with the revelation that she didn't want him to be kissing her just because he felt he should, just because they needed 'practise'. She wanted him to be kissing her because he wanted to, not for any other reason.

As Mary was realising this, Marshall had a sudden moment of clarity through his alcoholic haze.

"What did you think we were doing?" he asked as he fully released her and poured another drink.

"I...Err...Ummm...I was..."

"You were ready to throw down with me, weren't you?" he crowed. "Tsk, tsk, Mary, you naughty girl," he wagged a finger at her, "With my parents in the other room, too. Who knew you were so..."

He didn't get to finish as Mary cut him off, "I _was not_ about to throw down with you."

"Oh, you were! You sooooo wanted me...!"

"I did not!" she defended.

"Did too."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Not!"

"Did."

"Not."

"Did."

"Wow, that's some high level argument you two have going on there," Ellen said as she walked into the room. "Don't mind me, I just need a cloth. You carry on fighting or...whatever," she added, mindful of what she'd previously walked in on.

Ellen retrieved the cloth and waltzed out the room, leaving Mary and Marshall alone and grinning stupidly at each other.

"Well, she's managed to walk in on us doing the two things we do best," Marshall said with a wave toward the direction Ellen had just left in.

"She waked in on us kissing, Doofus, not having sex," Mary pointed out.

"Huh?" Marshall's brief period of lucidity had waned as the alcohol kicked in again.

"I think we're better at sex than kissing," Mary explained although she cursed herself as she said it.

She'd never normally let Marshall know she thought he was good at anything, let alone in bed, but something had lowered her defences and the words had come tumbling out. She wondered if you could get drunk by kissing someone who was already drunk and just how long you'd have to be kissing them before you felt any second hand effects. She briefly considered asking Marshall, it was the sort of random piece of information he'd know, but he seemed to have forgotten that she'd said anything and she decided it was best if she let the subject drop.

Her hand moved unconsciously to her month as she considered the kiss they had just shared. It may have been a fake kiss, timed to perfection and put on for his mother's benefit, but it had felt real. And the erection that Marshall had sported throughout most of it had most definitely been real, that couldn't be faked. Perhaps there was hope for them yet, Mary thought as she watched Marshall knock back the remains of his drink.

He went to pour another, but was stopped by Mary's hand on his.

He looked at her, puzzled.

"Enough, Marshall," she said quietly.

He stared at her a moment then complied, putting the top back on the bottle and the glass in the sink.

He turned to watch her when he was done. She had a thoughtful expression on her face and was staring, unseeingly, into the distance.

"Now what?" he asked after a moment, bringing her out of her introspection.

"I suppose we should go back in," she said, nodding in the direction of the living room where his family was gathered.

Marshall nodded.

He took her hand in his and lead the way into the other room.

xxx

Marshall sat on the sofa, slowly falling asleep. Between the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed and eating the nibbles Ellen had provided, he was replete. Mary sat next to him, leaning against him so that her warmth was adding to his drowsiness. She was chatting quietly with Ellen, his mom and dad joining in occasionally. The sound of hers and Ellen's voices joking and teasing each other and punctuated with their laughter was soothing. He knew he should try to stay awake a while longer, but each time he closed his eyes they seemed to stay closed slightly longer.

xxx

Mary had chosen her seat and position carefully.

Sandra thought she and Marshall weren't couple-y enough and Mary was determined to prove her wrong. She had sat as close to Marshall as she could and as the evening had worn on she had sprawled against him more and more. Now she was sat with her feet up on the sofa, knees bent as she tucked her legs under her. She rested against Marshall's shoulder and had his draped arm around her shoulders. At some point her hand had drifted to his chest to stop herself from sliding too far down his body – there were limits to how 'couple-y' she was willing to be in company.

"So where did the desk end up?" Ellen asked, amused by Mary's description of their office administrator and her antics.

"Back where it started," Mary said proudly.

"But she must have got one over on you at some point?" Charles asked, glad to be discussing a neutral topic.

Mary glanced at the floor and bit her lip before she admitted, "Yeah, once or twice."

"Spill!" Ellen demanded.

"She scotch-taped all my pens to my desk," Mary told them, grinning as she recalled the events, "It was just after the thing with the stapler when I'd stapled all her files closed. I came in the following day and went to pick up the pen that was sitting on my desk, but I couldn't. She'd scotch-taped it in such a way that it was impossible to see the tape. And the pen was absolutely covered in it, it wasn't just one strip she'd used, she'd covered the entire thing. So I thought I'd be clever and just use another one."

Mary paused for breath and there were nods all round the room as they agreed they'd do the same thing.

"So I reached into my pen holder to pull out another one. It came out okay, but it was attached to every other pen I own! She'd taped them all together! Everything I went to pick up that morning was taped down, taped closed, taped to something else. Even the scissors! I thought I'd use them to cut all the tape, but she'd taped them shut, too.

"And when she came in all she said to me was, 'I wanted to use red tape, for the symbolism, but the stationery catalogue was stapled shut so I couldn't order any.' That was the point we declared a truce on stationery equipment, although I did keep finding bits of tape and things taped to the inside of drawers for the rest of the week. I'm still not sure I've got it all," she finished with an exaggerated sigh.

Charles and Sandra chucked at Mary's story and Mary smiled back at them. She looked over at Ellen and saw her smiling happily. She caught Mary's eye and nodded toward Marshall, drawing Mary's attention to him.

Mary looked over and saw her partner was falling asleep. She nudged him gently, testing just how deep his sleep was. He opened his eyes slowly and tried to focus on her.

"I should get him to bed," Mary told the other occupants of the room.

"You need a hand?" Ellen offered, knowing her brother was still slightly worse for wear even though Mary had stopped him drinking a couple of hours ago.

Mary smiled softly. "No, I'll manage," she told Ellen before turning to Marshall and poking him on the ribs gently. "Come on, you. Time for bed."

"'Ssearly," Marshall mumbled.

"It's five after nine and you're three sheets to the wind," Mary replied, after deciphering Marshall's complaint.

He peered at her blearily, "The talking clock's got very judgemental," he noted.

Mary chucked at his joke and said, "Bed," in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Mmmm...Kay."

Mary stood and reached out her hands to Marshall. He took them and levered himself upright with Mary's help.

"Goodnight," she bid the room as she led Marshall to the door.

xxx

Ellen watched them go, wondering how Marshall had found someone who cared so deeply about him. She wasn't too proud to admit being a little jealous of their relationship. She'd always been a bit of a free spirit, never wanting to be tied down to one man or one relationship. But as she craned her neck to watch Mary cajole Marshall up the stairs, she wished she had someone in her life that would take care of her like that.

She didn't even have a partner at work to depend on. Of course, that was by choice as she'd got fed up with her male partners underestimating her or trying to cop a feel whenever they could. She knew people that thought that mixed professional partnerships were a bad idea and her mom had bemoaned them time and time again, but she wondered if they had been too hasty in their judgements. She could well understand the draw of the other person when in a mixed partnership. The implicit trust and enforced closeness of long and odd working hours had caused many a partner to seek solace in the other. Ellen was tolerant of these kinds of partnerships in the people under her command - as long as they were kept discrete, she couldn't see the harm.

The problems only arose when the couple stopped being a couple and went back to being work partners. That almost never worked Ellen had noticed over the years. One or the other nearly always ending up transferring or being transferred. She'd lost several good teams that way.

Somehow, Ellen suspected that Mary and Marshall would be one of the partnerships that made it. That was of course assuming they could stop getting in their own way and just get on with it...

xxx

Mary deposited Marshall on the bed and stood back.

He stared up at her blearily, managing to look half asleep and inquisitive at the same time.

"Get undressed," Mary instructed.

The sleepiness slowly dissipated from Marshall's eyes and was replaced by a leer.

"Are _you_ going to strip for _me_?" he asked.

Mary put her hands on her hips and pretended to consider the question.

"Are you sober enough to make it worth my while?" she returned.

Marshall nodded eagerly.

"Okay, then," Mary said, all business now she had a goal in sight, "You get undressed, I want a quick shower. Then we'll see just what we're best at."

Marshall grinned and turned his attention eagerly to his shoes. Mary went to leave the room, stopping in the doorway as she watched Marshall struggle with removing his shoe, regarding them as if he'd never seen a shoe before and required an instruction manual to work out how to get them off his feet. She shook her head and left him to it. The lingering image brought a smile to Mary's face as she undressed in the bathroom.

As she showered, she ran through the next hour or so in her mind. She smiled as she imagined Marshall's face as she dropped the towel she planned to wear back to the bedroom. The Marshall in her imagination stared at her with pure lust in his eyes, the way he had the night they had made love for the first time.

Mary smiled at the memory and she felt her body begin to respond as she recalled the events of that night. The feel of Marshall as he kissed her, touched her, moved inside her. Phantom hands ghosted over her skin as she stood under the spray of the shower.

Finally she decided she was clean enough and couldn't wait any longer. She switched off the shower and stepped out, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around her in one movement. She opened the bathroom door and padded down the hallway, uncaring about the wet footprints that marked her passage.

She pushed the bedroom door open and was confronted with the sight of Marshall sprawled out on the bed.

He was fast asleep, fully clothed, although his pants were undone and he'd obviously attempted to remove his shirt as well, as it was untucked and several buttons undone. One shoe sat beside the bed while the other remained on his foot.

Mary took in the sight and sighed as she realised that with the amount of alcohol he had consumed any activity other than sleep was wishful thinking on her part.

She dried herself off and dug her nightclothes out of her travel bag. Once dressed, she knelt beside the bed to remove Marshall's other shoe and both his socks. She stood to gently ease his pants off him and placed them on the back of the chair in the room. She contemplated the best way to get the shirt off him, but decided it was too much hassle and he could just sleep in it. Finally she nudged him onto the other side of the bed, so she could sleep near the door, and pulled the cover over him before sliding in herself.


	69. Bed and Breakfast

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 69 – Bed and Breakfast**

Mary lay in bed beside the deeply sleeping Marshall.

She hadn't bothered to turn out the bedside lamp and could see her partner clearly in its light. He looked peaceful although she knew the following day would be hell for him with a hangover and his parents' combined presence. But until tomorrow dawned, Mary couldn't help but envy his ability to sleep. She knew that sleep would be a long time coming and, as Marshall had pointed out, it was still early. She considered returning downstairs to where Ellen and her parents were surely still up, but she was sick of being ignored by Sandra and felt like she'd be betraying Marshall if she went and chatted to his dad.

She lay on her back and wondered to the umpteenth time that day just what the problem was between Marshall and his dad. The two men still hadn't acknowledged each other, although Mary had seen Marshall watching Charles with hopeful eyes a few times before the alcohol had really kicked in. She wondered just what Marshall could have done to provoke that sort of reaction from his dad.

She tried to remember what Marshall had said about the situation but came up blank. She couldn't think of a single thing that had hinted at the cause of this division. She could recall other facts, snippets of conversation, that he had shared and she had dismissed as trivial until recently, but nothing that would tell her what had happened.

Frustrated, she turned her thoughts to all the things she _could_ remember him saying.

He had said he hadn't been home for years and Ellen had let it slip that afternoon, that it had been seven years since Marshall and his dad had last spoke. Mary did the math and quickly pinpointed 2002 as the year in which they'd last spoken.

In 2002 she'd still been in New Jersey; she hadn't known Marshall or even that WITSEC would be an option for her. She vaguely recalled that Marshall had already been in WITSEC at that point. She struggled to remember the exact date he had transferred, sure that she'd read the date when she'd been searching through his personnel records the month before. She cursed her memory when it didn't provide the relevant information on demand. She wished that she'd copied the files and brought them with her, but then she realised that that would have increased the chance of her illicit search being exposed to her partner's prying eyes.

And Eleanor would have known, with her obsessive need to collate the copier every night, Mary wouldn't have had a chance of sneaking the file past her.

At the thought of Eleanor, an idea formed. She glanced at the bedside clock and tried to remember if daylight saving time was in effect and whether that would make a blind bit of difference. She decided to risk it, regardless, and reached for her phone, casting a glance in Marshall's direction to check he was still asleep. As if on cue, Marshall shifted slightly and started breathing heavily, bordering on a snore that Mary would give him crap about in the morning.

For now, she just rolled her eyes and dialled the number for the office, hoping Eleanor would still be there.

After the third ring the phone was answered by a subdued Eleanor.

"Hello?" Eleanor began.

"Hi," Mary whispered, not wanting to disturb Marshall or risk being overheard.

"Who is this?" Eleanor asked, not recognising a quiet Mary.

"It's me," Mary responded with a tone that indicated the stupidity of the question, allowing Eleanor to identify the caller. "I wasn't sure you'd still be there," Mary continued.

"Yet, you called anyway. To what do I owe this pleasure?" The sarcasm in her voice lacked its usual bite and Mary got straight to the point, perceiving Eleanor wasn't in the mood for their normal banter.

"Can you have a look at Marshall's file for me?" she asked, holding her breath in anticipation of a refusal.

"Why?"

"I want to know what year he joined WITSEC," Mary told her.

"Can't you just ask him?" Eleanor sounded weary.

"He's asleep."

"Fine," she agreed, placing the receiver on the desk with a thud.

Mary was surprised at how easily Eleanor was convinced and waited patiently as she heard rustling on the other end of the line, signifying Eleanor was searching for the correct file. After a moment, Eleanor returned and Mary heard her pick up the receiver even as the rustling continued, louder this time, as Eleanor turned to the appropriate page.

"He moved to Springfield in 2000," Eleanor told her.

"Huh," Mary responded, unsure what that proved.

"Are you going to tell me what this is really about?" Eleanor asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Did you ever find out anything from the Colorado office?" Mary asked in return.

"No, you told me not to bother," she reminded Mary.

"Yeah," Mary agreed, half heartedly. "Is there anything of interest in 2002?"

Eleanor scanned the entries for that year. "Which of the many transfers are you interested in?"

Mary suddenly recalled the list of transfers that had surprised her the first time she had read the information about her partner's history.

"What was the longest posting?" she asked, not really caring about the answer as her mind made the link between Marshall's falling out with his dad and his sudden inability to remain in one place or with one partner for any length of time.

"Philadelphia, for three months. That was the longest he was anywhere between '02 and '04 when he moved here," Eleanor said, puzzled by what had caused the usually steady Marshall to be so restless. "He requested the transfer, but it doesn't say why."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Eleanor," Mary said, having got the most relevant piece of information from his file. She was about to hang up when a thought occurred to her. "Are you okay?"

There was a slightly stunned silence on the other end of the line before Eleanor responded, "Yeah."

Mary was unconvinced as Eleanor didn't sound sure herself.

"Why are you still at the office?"

"I didn't want to go home," Eleanor revealed in a small voice.

"Is it your first Christmas without John?" Mary asked gently.

"Yeah."

Mary could hear that Eleanor was on the verge of tears at the reminder. She was struggling for something to say, some comfort to offer, when Marshall snorted loudly in his sleep.

"What the hell was that?" Eleanor asked, choosing to ignore the loneliness she'd been struggling with all day.

"That was Marshall snoring," Mary revealed, her dry tone betraying her limited patience with the sound.

"Good God! It sounds like a rat being sucked into a vacuum cleaner."

Mary's silence conveyed her agreement.

"Don't stay too long at the office," Mary cautioned as a goodbye.

"I won't," Eleanor replied, although both women knew she was lying.

Mary hung up the phone and wondered what she could do for Eleanor when Marshall snorted once again, drawing her attention back to her original train of thought. She poked Marshall in the side a couple of times until he got the hint and turned over, easing his breathing back to the silent variety.

Mary considered Marshall's nomadic lifestyle for a while, and the amount of transfers that had been listed without any explanation. She knew that one of them was from when he slept with his then-partner but could only speculate about reasons for the rest. She couldn't imagine that he'd slept with his partner that often; there weren't that many women in WITSEC. As she thought about Marshall's past conquests, her thoughts turned, inevitably, to Gemma.

The more she thought about her, the more she started to curse her name.

Gemma was the cause of all her problems in one way or another she was sure of it. _She_ was the reason behind her and Marshall's fight and _she_ was the reason the only physical contact she had had in the last month was Marshall's hug a week ago. _She_ was the reason she hadn't been able to have sex for nearly a month.

Okay, Mary relented, maybe Gemma wasn't entirely responsible for that last one, Mary had been the one to freak out and back out of seeing where the the whole "friends with benefits" arrangement led. And now, she was trying to remember why. It had been the perfect solution, hadn't it? Although why Marshall had insisted that she allowed for the possibility for it to develop, she still couldn't see. Why didn't he want a purely physical relationship with her?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Marshall had been right. The very fact that they were friends connected them in a way that was more than just physical. If she had wanted just physical, she could have easily had gone out and satisfied that itch at any time, but she hadn't. She had been too focused on fixing hers and Marshall's relationship to worry about taking care of her needs. And she had a sneaking suspicion that if Marshall discovered any remedy she may have indulged in, their fragile relationship would have toppled and shattered into unbreakable pieces.

So technically Marshall was to blame for her current level of horniness. And that had to explain her reaction to his simple touch at lunchtime. She'd been so lacking in human contact for the last month that she would have reacted that way to any half way attractive man's touch, she reasoned.

In the back of her mind was a snort of derision that sounded suspiciously like Ellen. Her mind helpfully provided the image of the guy on the plane just this morning who had done his best to chat her up, brushing against her as he did so. That had only served to irritate her; couldn't he see she was with Marshall?

Marshall had let her deal with the guy on her own, either too lost in his thoughts to notice or just too polite to intervene and do her out of a potential date. Another time she might have taken the guy up on his offer, but this morning she had declined, which was making her reconsider her reaction to Marshall this afternoon.

Her impatience in the shower also couldn't be ignored and Brandi's words came back to her once again.

"_Do you want to seduce him or not?"_

The answer to that was becoming more and more obvious to her although everytime her thoughts turned from the purely physical to the emotional side of a relationship with Marshall, she hastily backed down.

She didn't think she was ready for that kind of commitment. She had come too close to losing Marshall in the last month to feel safe making any greater commitment to him. Sure, he hadn't _actually_ left Albuquerque and her for Gemma, but he had been considering it. Mary wasn't oblivious to her commitment issues, she knew they came from being abandoned at a young age and had been compounded by Raph's recent departure. But that knowledge just added to her uncertainty: she just wasn't sure if she could risk being abandoned again.

xxx

Marshall woke up feeling like something furry had died in his mouth. He half heartedly brushed at the corners of his mouth, an automatic response picked up quickly from the week of sleeping with Mary, who often forgot to tie her hair back at night despite his constant prompting. As expected, his hand located several strands of long blonde hair that had migrated into his mouth. He removed them and was surprised when the fuzzy feeling didn't immediately abate. It was then he remembered where he was and how much he had drunk yesterday. He groaned and buried his face in the nearest soft, dark thing.

As he lay still, he did a quick check of his physical status. He didn't have a headache or any other signs of an impending hangover, which was surprising. Other than the exceptionally dry mouth, he felt okay. More so when he realised the soft dark thing he had buried his face in was Mary's T-shirt.

And the T-shirt contained a sleeping Mary.

He shifted slightly, checking the position of each of his limbs. One arm was draped across Mary's waist, just below where his head rested on her stomach. The covers had been kicked off during the night and lay in a tangled heap at their feet as Mary sprawled diagonally across the bed which had resulted in Marshall's unusual position in relation to her, as he had unknowingly slid down the bed to seek out the warmth of the covers.

As he stretched again, her T-shirt rode up her stomach, exposing her soft skin. He stared, silently thanking any deity he could name for letting this be the first thing his eyes alighted on this morning.

"'M cold," Mary muttered drowsily as the cold air hit her newly exposed skin.

Marshall grabbed at the covers and pulled them over them both, adjusting his position as he did so, knowing that Mary was almost awake and not likely to tolerate his touch for much longer.

"Don't stop," Mary told him, her eyes still closed.

"What?" Marshall croaked confused.

"You were stroking me," Mary told him.

"Was I? Sorry," Marshall replied.

Mary turned toward him, coming to lay on her side as she burrowed next to him, getting as close as she could. Marshall was still groggy but not stupid enough to ignore the open invitation. He gathered her in his arms, stroking her back lightly, and pulled her close.

Mary sighed contentedly.

Marshall started to drift back to sleep.

Mary had been woken up by Marshall's movement and the sudden influx of cold. As she lay snuggled close to Marshall, she would have been more than happy to follow Marshall's lead and go back to sleep, but her brain was awake now and had other ideas. The same thoughts that had kept her awake last night had reappeared and were now intent on depriving her of yet more sleep.

She wasn't going to have that, she decided, at least not alone.

"You awake?" she asked Marshall.

He'd been on the verge of sleep but Mary's question brought him back from the edge. "No," he lied, hoping that he wouldn't have to move anytime soon.

"How's the hangover?"

"Fine."

Mary waited for him to expand on his answer and was disappointed when he didn't.

"Why won't you talk to me?"

"Comfy," he murmured hoping she'd let him sleep.

Mary peeked up at him.

"So, what's up with you and your dad?"

Marshall groaned and rolled onto his back, knowing that there was no chance of sleep now. To his surprise Mary followed his movement, repositioning herself so that she was stretched along his length, half laying on him.

"Do we have to talk about this now, Mare?" he asked.

"I just want to know how much of a free rein I have..."

Her sentence was cut off by Marshall's strangled plea, "Please, Mare, don't cause a scene. I know my dad can be an ass, but he's still my dad and I'd like to try and get through Christmas without any blood being spilt."

Mary stared at him in disbelief, "Why are you so tolerant of the way he treats you?"

"He hasn't always been like this," Marshall replied shaking his head. "He taught me everything I know. It used to drive Ellen crazy that he'd spend so much time with me, teaching me things. Whenever he'd leave on assignment, she make me teach her everything I'd been shown. They say that the best way to learn is to teach and I can vouch for that. Between the two of them, by the time I left for college, I had as much weapons and hand-to-hand combat training as a fully fledged marshal. And Ellen was only a step behind, not even that most the time. Of course that was probably because she was actually interested in joining law enforcement while at the time I wasn't."

"You didn't answer my question," Mary pointed out when Marshall paused for breath, determined not to be distracted that easily by the glimpse into Marshall's childhood.

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice that," Marshall sighed. "Truth is, Mare, I'm not entirely sure why he won't talk to me. I can pinpoint the moment he stopped, I just don't know why."

"When did he stop?"

"The JPATS flight."

"Huh?"

"He was transporting a prisoner. He used to do that a lot. Before JPATS was up and running that was his main job; prisoner transport. Then, when the service got the JPATS planes in the early 70s, it didn't take as many marshals to guard the prisoners as it did when they took them on public transport. Dad was reassigned to the criminal investigations team in Colardo, although I think he was offered a chance to help set up and run JPATS, or NPTS as it was then, I don't know why he didn't take that."

"Marshall," Mary breathed, bringing him back to the original topic before he started comparing the benefits of the JPATS service to the old school method or found some other way to avoid her question.

"Anyway, he was transporting a prisoner who, unbeknown to Dad, had cut a deal with the DOJ. My partner and I were sent to pick him up and relocate him. He was surprised to see me, that much I know. I'd told him I'd got a promotion, but we never really talk specifics so I hadn't told him it was to WITSEC. I don't know if it was the fact I hadn't told him or that I'd joined WITSEC that pissed him off most."

Marshall paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"He'd been so proud of me up until then. For so many years. Then one day, that day, it all just stopped. It was like he flipped a switch and all that was gone."

Marshall shook his head and gazed down at Mary. She lay with her head and a hand on his chest, listening to him intently while storing away all the details he gave her for use at another time. Marshall marvelled at the domesticity of the scene even as he mentally pinched himself to remind himself that it was all an act.

He continued, "We exchanged some harsh words that day. Yet I don't think at any point, even then, did he acknowledge me as his son. I've been over and over it in my mind and that was the moment he disowned me."

Marshall's voice caught in his throat as he said the words, admitting aloud for the first time the truth of the situation with his dad. Mary shifted closer to him, if that was possible, and said nothing just letting Marshall take his time and offering whatever comfort she could with her presence.

After a few steadying breaths, Marshall spoke again, "At first I tried everything I could think of to get him to talk to me again. I called him, I visited, I sent letters. But what can you do when someone refuses to even look at you? After a couple of months I had to give in to the fact he didn't want to talk to me.

"I started doing all the things that he'd taught me never to do, just to see if I could provoke a response from him. It never did."

Mary broke in, "Is that why you kept being transferred? You were screwing up deliberately?"

"Yes and no. I wasn't screwing up. I never did anything that endangered a witness. But I developed a flexible approach to authority and orders that most Inspectors couldn't deal with so they'd either transfer or, if they had enough pull with the boss, get me transferred. The odd occasion I was partnered with someone who would put up with me, I'd ask for the transfer myself. Looking back, I think I didn't want anyone getting too close and finding out that I wasn't good enough to be a marshal."

"What do you mean?"

Marshall sighed deeply, "The last thing Dad said to me was, 'I don't know how they ever let someone like you into the marshal service. Our standards really are slipping.'"

"He said what?" Mary asked indignantly, levering herself into a position where she could see Marshall's face. "Oh, just wait until I..."

"Don't, Mare," Marshall cautioned, knowing where she was heading with her thought. "I've spent years worrying about this, investing time and energy unnecessarily. He's not going to change his mind now and I've finally reached the point where I don't care anymore."

Mary scoffed, "Sure you don't. That's why I had to pick your drunken ass of the floor yesterday. Because you were so busy _not caring_ what your dad thinks of you that you just forgot to stand up!"

Marshall stared at her, the recollection of laying in the hallway coming back to him.

"It won't help, Marshall, drinking. Trust me on that one," Mary said quietly, reminding him of her first hand experience with an alcoholic.

He vowed there and then that Mary would never have to pick him off the floor again. She'd done that enough with her mom, he suspected, and he wouldn't make her go through that with him, no matter how bad things with his dad got this weekend.

"Okay, so maybe I do still care," he admitted, returning to the cause of his drinking yesterday, "but it's easier to I pretend I don't. And if you say anything or let on that it bothers me, then he's won. I need to show him that I don't need him anymore, that I'm a grown man and a US Marshal. Maybe if I show him that, he'll see..."

Mary could emphasise with her partner a little too easily for her taste. She knew all too well the feeling of wanting to prove you didn't need somebody, of wanting to show them you were fine without them. While all the time you were hoping that by showing them how much you had grown without them, it would make them want to come back.

Marshall took her silence as dissent and tried another tack, "Please, Mare, this is one of those decisions I have to make for myself."

"Okay," Mary agreed, "I won't say anything. At least I'll try not to. What about your mom? Can I say something to her?"

"She's tried talking to him, it's never worked yet, but you can ask her to try again."

"No, I meant can I say something to her about why she doesn't like me?"

"She's got a thing about partners sleeping together," Marshall told her, thinking that he hadn't wanted Ellen to tell their parents about Mary for this very reason. "You could ask Ellen, she might know why."

"Okay, then."

Mary stretch, arching her back like a cat before relaxing back onto Marshall. They lay in silence a while, neither wanting to move before they had to. Marshall let his hands slip under Mary's T-shirt and stroke her soft skin as he tested his luck. She didn't complain, just purred quietly at his touch.

Suddenly, she sat up, sniffing the air.

"Is that bacon?" she asked.

"Probably. I think Ellen's in the kitchen."

Mary was out of bed in a flash and round his side of the bed an instant later. She grabbed his arm and started pulling.

"Come on, get up!" she said still pulling his arm.

"What's the hurry?"

"Ellen's making breakfast! There's no way I'm lazing around in bed with you when your sister is making food."

"But why do _I _need to get up?" he complained.

"I'm willing to bet that Ellen's one of those people that will wait for everyone to be present before serving. And you need a shower, you stink of booze."

Marshall heaved a sigh, knowing that Mary's assessment of Ellen was correct and that no one that had come between Mary and food had ever survived. He swung his legs off the bed and allowed the movement to pull him upright.

He regretted it instantly.

The hangover that he'd thought he'd managed to avoid hadn't past him by. As his head swam, he realised that it just hadn't arrived yet as his body continued to metabolise the alcohol still in his system.

No wonder he'd been so verbose this morning, he thought, he was still drunk.

xxx

Marshall returned from the bathroom to find Mary fully dressed and on the phone.

"Just make sure she's okay, Stan," she said as Marshall pushed the door closed behind him.

There was a pause as Stan replied.

"Yeah, okay. I'll speak to you later," Mary responded before hanging up the phone.

Marshall waited, towel wrapped round his waist and held in place with one hand, for Mary to look at him.

"Problem?" he asked when she did.

She shook her head, "Eleanor was at the office late last night as she didn't want to go home. I was just letting Stan know so he can keep an eye on her. It's her first Christmas without John."

Marshall nodded. He knew that Eleanor would never find out about Mary's intervention. Not from Stan and most certainly not from Mary. She didn't like that she'd done something nice for someone being mentioned so kept her interference to herself, eschewing recognisition in favour of anonymity. Instead Stan would just turn up at Eleanor's house tomorrow, bottle of wine in hand, and invite himself to stay until he got kicked out. Marshall smiled as he wondered if he'd be kicked out at all.

For some reason, his next thought was of Gemma and how she'd never let a moment of being in the spotlight pass her by.

He glanced at Mary as she sat thoughtfully on the bed.

Mary was trying to ignore the sight of Marshall getting dressed on the other side of the bed. Her breath had caught when she'd seen him come into the room, still damp from the shower and clad in only a towel.

She was trying to talk herself out of jumping him then and there, having resolved, just last night, that she couldn't face being abandoned again. Logically, she knew the chance of Marshall leaving her was slight, but she just couldn't convince herself that it was worth the chance.

"So, are we going to eat, then?" she asked, seeking to distract herself from her other appetite.

Marshall slipped on a pullover and said, "Sure, although I'm not sure how much I'll be able to manage."

"And whose fault is that?"

"My dad's?" Marshall suggested.

"Nice try, Moron," Mary laughed as she pushed him out the door, "but you've only yourself to blame and you'll get no sympathy from me!"

"I knew you didn't love me," Marshall joked, taking advantage of Mary's playful mood despite his burgeoning headache.

"Not when I have to pick your drunken ass off the floor, I don't."

"Does that mean you love me the rest of the time?" he asked as she shepherded him down the stairs

"Some days more than others," she muttered, teasing quietly.

"So you admit it then! You do love me!" Marshall proclaimed as he braced himself at the bottom of the stairs so that Mary's pushes became ineffectual and she couldn't get past.

"Move, Doofus, breakfast is waiting."

Marshall didn't move, just stood there grinning stupidly over his shoulder at her.

"Not until you admit it!"

Mary glared at him.

He grinned back.

She crossed her arms and glared some more.

He grinned some more.

"Ellen!" she yelled plaintively.

She shot him a smug grin as the kitchen door opened and Ellen appeared in the doorway.

"Your brother won't let me down the stairs," Mary whined, "And I'm hungry..."

"Admit it," Marshall said again.

"Admit what?" Ellen enquired.

"She won't admit that she loves me," Marshall filled her in.

"Fine!" Mary threw her hands in the air, "I admit it! I love you! Can I eat now?"

"Of course," Marshall said, stepping aside and offering her his hand to escort her down off the bottom step with a courtly bow.

"You're both as insane as each other," Ellen said with a shake of her head as turned to go back into the kitchen.

As she turned away, she didn't see Mary quietly accept Marshall's outstretched hand as she stepped off the stairs.


	70. Shine a Light

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 70 – Shine a Light**

Marshall had, as predicted, only picked at his breakfast.

His stomach roiled at the thought of food on the few occasions he had managed to consider anything other than his throbbing headache. His shower had chased away the remnants of alcohol in his system, leaving only pain and nausea in its wake.

By lunch he was slightly better as the pain meds had dulled his headache although they hadn't done much to settle his stomach. He'd picked the plainest of the sandwiches Ellen had made and nibbled at it slowly as his dad espoused the virtues of a healthy appetite.

Mary helped herself to another portion of the salad Ellen had prepared and marvelled at how the woman had made bits of plants taste so good. Was there nothing Ellen couldn't make?

As she went to replace the bowl on the table, she noticed Sandra watching her. Mary went to hand her the salad bowl, thinking that was what she wanted, when Sandra turned away and re-entered the conversation with Ellen and Charles. Mary put the bowl down with a thud. She may have promised Marshall she wouldn't make a scene but this was getting ridiculous.

Mary continued to brood as she attacked her salad.

"This is lovely," Sandra was saying about the meal when Mary started paying attention to the conversation rather than the food, "but how did you have time to prepare it all? You've been with us all morning in the living room."

"I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep," Ellen replied, revealing how she'd managed to prepare lunch and be the perfect hostess.

Mary was instantly alert. She recognised that dismissive tone and that phrasing when it came to early morning distractions. She'd used them often enough herself when she shrugged off her latest nightmare.

She caught Ellen's eye and saw her slight shake of the head, a silent request not to mention her inability to sleep.

Mary sighed quietly, cursing under her breath as she wondered if this family ever discussed anything that was going on with them.

Still, when in Rome, she told herself as she said, "Marshall told me the other day that while the invention of the sandwich is generally given to the Earl of Sandwich in the 18th century, there's evidence that they actually originated in Holland in the 17th century."

Mary paused as she contemplated the fact, trying to remember if he'd told her any more.

"That's true," Ellen said, looking at Mary with gratitude in her eyes, "Although it's hard to dispute that the Earl of Sandwich had a hand in its popularity. It's said that he often ordered a bit of meat between two slices of bread as he played cards as then the meat didn't make his hands and cards greasy."

"And in 18th century Britain, where an Earl led others were bound to follow," Marshall joined in, "hence the name sandwich."

"What's with that?" Mary asked.

"The British aristocracy? Who knows, I think they were all inbred even back then," Marshall said.

"No, the 18th century. Why's it the 18th? Shouldn't it be the 17th? All the numbers in it start with 17 so why's it the 18th century?" Mary asked.

"Ah," Charles joined in, "It's a common mistake. It stems from the fact that there is no year zero in the Gregorian calendar. It goes straight from 1 BC to 1 AD, which means that the first century ran from year 1 to year 100, the second from year 101 to 200 and so on. When you get to more recent centuries it still applies so the 20th century ran from 1901 to 2000."

Mary though for a minute and could see the logic, "So really the new millennium started in 2001, not 2000 like everyone thought?"

"That's right," Charles said smiling for the first time since he'd got there.

There were general nods and murmurs of agreement all round the table.

"So all those parties on the 31st of December 1999 were in the wrong year?"

"Yep," Marshall said.

Mary looked around the table at the smug faces looking back at her.

"None of you celebrated then, did you?"

Marshall and his dad exchanged a grin, "Nope," they said in unison before quickly looking away from each other.

xxx

"I'll help you clear," Mary offered, earning her a strange look from Marshall and a nod from Ellen.

Sandra and Charles, encouraged by Ellen, had made their way into the other room, leaving the three of them in the kitchen. Marshall remained seated as the women stood to move the empty plates to the sink. He had been intending to help clear when Mary had beat him to it and now he wanted to know what had prompted her offer and just what she was up to.

Mary loaded the dishwasher silently, hoping that Marshall would get bored and leave the room so she could ask Ellen about her nightmares. When she realised he wasn't going anywhere, she cast around for another topic to discuss.

"So," she began, "Marshall says your mom has a thing about partners sleeping together."

"Yeah," Ellen replied, not really thinking. Suddenly she stopped what she was doing and spun to face Marshall. "Oh! I forgot!" she said to him, "You asked me not to tell them. I'm so sorry! Me and my big mouth..."

Marshall waved a hand, "That's alright. They were bound to find out sooner or later. I'd just hoped it would be later." He dismissed her concerns about letting it slip that he was seeing his partner. It wasn't real anyway.

"But what's her problem?" Mary pressed.

"Dad had an affair with his partner," Ellen stated.

"What?" Marshall sprung to his feet and moved closer to the women, hangover temporarily forgotten.

"Didn't you know?" Ellen asked.

"No. How...? What...? Who? When?" Marshall struggled to order his still sluggish thoughts at this revelation.

"Which of those do you want me to answer first?" Ellen asked, grinning at her brother's disbelief and confusion. "Although, you'll have to ask Mary about the 'How?' I'm not comfortable explaining that to you."

Mary snickered quietly as she caught Ellen's eye. She leant on the worktop and waited for Marshall to compose himself and the scene to play out.

"When?" he asked finally.

"Just after we left for college," Ellen told him, watching as he processed the information, recalling his dad's partner at that time and assigning a name and face to the woman that had come so close to ruining his parents marriage.

"Personally, I think he was lonely after you left," Ellen continued lightly, "He had no one to play Marshals with after hours and..." she waved her hand to indicate just where that had led.

"Well, that's mildly disturbing," Mary muttered.

"You're telling me," Marshall replied as he perched on the kitchen worktop, his headache starting up again.

Ellen grinned at them both, pleased that she had defused the potentially volatile situation with her observation.

"So, Mom obviously forgave him," Marshall surmised after a moment of painful thought.

"Yeah, I don't think it lasted long and she put him through hell when she found out, but yeah."

Ellen returned to clearing the table while Mary watched as Marshall sat, quietly reassessing teenage memories and joining the dots. Mary turned to lean a hip on the worktop, next to where Marshall sat head lolling back against a wall unit, her arms crossed as they both considered the information.

"Aren't you pissed?" Mary asked.

Marshall shrugged, "It was twenty years ago and between my parents. There's no point in me getting upset."

"I wish I could be more like that, sometimes," Mary murmured just loud enough for Marshall to hear.

He reached over and pulled her into an embrace. She didn't resist but didn't unfold her arms to return the hug.

"At least now I know why she doesn't like me," she mumbled into his chest.

xxx

Charles flipped channels angrily, thrusting the remote toward the TV each time he pressed the button as if that would ensure the next channel would have something to watch on it. It didn't.

He had been ensconced in the living room all afternoon after his inadvertent slip. He had found the TV to be a convenient excuse not to talk to anyone. Especially anyone that kept directing comments and questions to him after that moment at lunch. The only problem was the TV seemed to be out to get him. Every channel seemed to have a Christmas special on, promoting love and forgiveness at this special time of year.

Well, he didn't _want_ to forgive.

Finally, he settled on an old John Wayne movie that ended in manner befitting his mood: a shoot out followed by the bad guy being run out of town.

He resolutely tried to follow the plot while the conversation swirled around him.

Ultimately, the conversation proved to have too much draw over a movie he had seen half a dozen times.

"So, I heard you ran into Gemma last time you were in DC," Ellen said, hoping to get Marshall's side of the story.

"Yeah," he breathed, not wanting to be reminded of the encounter and the events that followed.

He wasn't given the opportunity to change the topic, though, as his mom seized upon it and joined the conversation.

"Really? You did? How is she?" Sandra asked with a bit too much enthusiasm for Mary's taste.

Marshall felt her bristle next to him and chose his reply carefully.

"She's okay," he told his mom, sidestepping as much as possible, "Her dad got re-elected."

"Yeah, I saw that. You never did tell me the real reason you two broke up. You made such a striking couple," Sandra said, silently adding that any grandkids produced from that union would have been beautiful.

"It just didn't work out," Marshall said, surprised that Mary hadn't jumped in with all the gory details.

Charles snorted loudly, betraying the fact he was listening.

"Did you have something to say, Dad?" Marshall asked blandly. His hopes of reconciliation had been dashed in the hours after lunch as his dad returned to ignoring him.

Charles shifted uncomfortably. He didn't know whether to continue ignoring Marshall or to point out the error of his ways. Given the open invitation, the opportunity to criticize proved too great to resist.

"Relationships don't just 'work out,' you have to work _at _them. You keep working at them until you succeed. They only fail when you quit trying."

Marshall suppressed the urge to roll his eyes in light of his father's disapproving tone and Mary's rising anger.

How many times had he heard that mantra, he wondered.

"Sometimes it's better to quit while you're ahead," Mary pointed out quietly, not willing to let Marshall shoulder all the blame for the failed relationship when it wasn't his fault.

Charles glared at her, resenting her interference.

"But my point is," Charles told her with a steely edge to his words, "that relationships need work. You can't just give up on them at the first sign of trouble."

Mary couldn't stop herself from asking sweetly, "Is that what you told Sandra after you cheated on her?"

A hush fell over the room and Mary clamped her mouth shut as she remembered her promise not to cause a scene. Charles turned away in disgust, not believing the audacity of this stranger in bringing up ancient history. History that had remained buried for years and would have remained buried without her intervention.

Marshall hid his smirk while Ellen searched for somewhere safe to look. Sandra glared at Mary long and hard before turning her attention to the TV just as John Wayne drawled his ultimatum to the bad guy.

xxx

"Hey, Ellen," Mary greeted as she walked into the kitchen, the only place she had found to have a private conversation when there were five people in the house.

Ellen looked up from preparing dinner and seeing the serious look on Mary's face, handed her some carrots to peal and slice.

Mary took them and set to work. The women worked silently for a few moments before Mary blurted out the question that had been weighing on her mind since that morning.

"Are you still having nightmares?"

Ellen stopped what she was doing and stared at Mary for a long moment. Mary was struck by the similarity between her and Marshall more in that moment than she had been all day. Something about the way they could look at a person and measure their true worth was disconcerting to the uninitiated, but Mary had faced that piercing look many a time and held her ground.

"Yeah, sometimes," Ellen finally admitted.

"You still seeing that shrink?"

Ellen nodded sharply, "Only once a fortnight, but yes."

"What did they say?"

"That they'll go in time," she turned and smiled wryly at Mary, "He never says how much time, though."

"Typical," Mary muttered. "But you're okay?"

Ellen give her a genuine smile, "Yes, mostly, and I'm getting better. Marshall was right, I was too close to it all. I've taken a huge step back and the horror is starting to come back. I was watching the news the other night and while my emotional response isn't what it should be, it's better than it was a month ago."

"That's good," Mary said, relieved. "And the new job? How's that going?"

Ellen sighed an exaggerated sigh showing her frustration and contentment. "It's fine. It's a lot of paperwork, tedium and interoffice politicking but it's starting to show results. I'm starting to see some real cooperation between a couple of the agencies and hopefully, I'll get a couple more on board after the holiday."

Mary smiled as she pealed the carrots. Ellen was obviously in her element setting up the inter-agency taskforce despite the fact she was no longer in the field. Mary guessed the desk job caught up with most of them in the end, she just hoped that it would be a long time before she was assigned such a position. She had no intention of giving up active service and as long as she had Marshall at her side, she couldn't see why she would ever want to.

She wondered if Marshall felt the same. She knew he'd considered leaving the service altogether and if he'd moved back to DC to be with Gemma, he'd probably have ended up leading a team or as a senior instructor. She wondered if that was what had put him off moving back.

"Did you ever consider joining the marshal service?" Mary asked suddenly.

"Yes and no. I would have like to, it is family tradition after all, but I also wanted to make my own way. So as long as Marshall joined the USMS, I was free to join any branch of law enforcement that took my interest."

"What if Marshall hadn't joined the service?" Mary asked, intrigued by Ellen's phrasing.

Ellen shrugged, "I would have. There's been at least one marshal in our family since 1882. Of course, all the pressure was on Marshall to be the one to join, I never envied him that. As kids, Grandpa would tell us stories that his grandpa had told him about the wild west and I'd hang on every word. Marshall was more interested in stories about aliens and spaceships."

Mary smiled as she thought of the Christmas gift waiting for him in amongst her clothes.

"I can't blame him," Ellen continued, unaware of Mary's train of thought, "Sure, he got all of Dad's attention, but he also got all the pressure to live up to his standards as well."

"Did he ever consider another career?"

Ellen laughed. "Of course! He changed his mind every week about what he wanted to be when he grew up. He'd read about something and desperately want to be that for the next few days, until he read something else."

"If your dad pushed him so hard to be a marshal, why did he name him Marshall? Surely he must have known...?"

"I think he named him after himself," Ellen said, "Although Marshall doesn't see it that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Dad is Charles Mann the third. Marshall's always wondered why he wasn't Charles Mann the fourth, to carry on the tradition. A few years ago, he told me that he thought Dad somehow knew, back then, that he wouldn't be able to live up to Dad's expectations and didn't want his name associated with a failure. Of course that was shortly after they fell out and I've no idea if he remembers telling me that, but that's what he believes."

"But you don't agree?"

"No. I think Dad named him after himself. Marshall Charles Mann. I just don't think Dad knows how to not be a marshal and that's why..."

"...He ended up as Marshal Marshall Mann," Mary finished for her. "Have you ever asked your dad about it?"

Ellen looked at her a moment, "How long have you been here?" she asked sarcastically. "I can have a four hour conversation with my dad about the pros and cons of the death penalty and capital punishment, but ask him a personal question? You must be kidding!"

Mary grinned, "Sorry, I forgot. I just find it strange. There's so many things you don't know about your dad and he's right there to ask. Why wouldn't you take advantage of that?"

"How long's it been since you saw your dad?" Ellen asked suddenly.

Mary's eyes narrowed, "What's Marshall told you?"

"Nothing. You gave yourself away,"

"He left when I was seven," Mary stated as blandly as she could.

Ellen nodded sharply and they were plunged into darkness.

They stood in silently in the dark for a moment as they tried to work out what had just happened.

"Is it a power outage?" Ellen asked.

"If it is, someone, somewhere likes me," Mary said, referring to the uncomfortable turn the conversation had taken before it was interrupted.

Ellen's sniff of amusement carried through the darkened room, "Don't bet on it, if the power's out, dinner's gonna be late."

Mary groaned as she realised Ellen was right and hoped that it was just the kitchen bulb that had blown.

Her groan was echoed by a muffled curse as someone in the hall hit, kicked or tripped over something.

That someone turned out to be Marshall as he pushed open the kitchen door and asked, "Hey, Ellen, what have you done to the lights?"


	71. Poker I Barely Know Her

**AN: **I so wish I could claim credit for it, but the chapter title is from an episode of Psych.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 71 – Poker? I Barely Know Her!**

"So what do we do now?" Marshall asked with a leer made sinister by the candlelight.

"We could tell ghost stories," Ellen suggested.

"I was thinking of a more...umm...adult pastime," Marshall said suggestively.

"Marshall," Mary warned quietly, unsure where her partner was heading with that thought and aware his parents were still in the room, even if they weren't partaking in the conversation.

"What?" Marshall faked surprise and added, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, "I was thinking of poker."

"Oh. That sort of adult" Mary muttered, relieved.

"Why? What did you think I was going to say?" Marshall enquired needlessly.

"Nothing. That's what I thought you meant," Mary said hastily, not wanting to be caught thinking the other kind of adult thoughts by Marshall or his parents.

"I don't have any chips," Ellen broke in before Mary and Marshall could start bickering fully.

The power cut had so far lasted for almost an hour. Ellen had been forced to cease her usual pastime of cooking and had dispatched Marshall to find out if they were the only house affected. On his return with the news that all the lights on the block were out, everyone had congregated in the kitchen while Ellen had located and lit as many candles as she could find. Charles had been forced to partially join in with the group due to lack of TV. He had still managed to make his displeasure known through his general reticence and Sandra had mirrored his attitude after Mary's comment.

That left Mary, Ellen and Marshall to carry on the conversation somewhat uncomfortably at times. Mary had promised Marshall just that morning that she wouldn't make a scene, not knowing how hard that would be throughout the day. Her control over her temper was slowly being frayed by the wearing silence and she was grateful that Marshall and Ellen were currently filling the silence with a discussion on possible chip substitutes.

"How about chips?" Mary suggested when Ellen paused for breath.

Marshall and Ellen looked at her as if she had just grown another head.

"That's what we're talking about..." Marshall spelled it out for her.

"I know that, Moron. I'm saying we could use chips as chips."

Ellen caught on first, declaring, "Perfect!" before moving to pull a bag of potato chips out of a cupboard.

Marshall grinned and disappeared to find a deck of cards, taking a candle with him. He returned moments later, triumphant. He handed the deck to Mary who took a seat at the kitchen table, where Ellen was sorting chips into five piles, and began to deal.

xxx

The game was into its seventh hand when the lights came back on. The sudden illumination did little to dispel the tension in the room.

Sandra and Ellen were out, chips lost or eaten.

The remaining, uneaten chips were divided fairly evenly between the three remaining players.

"Five," Charles broke the contemplative silence as he placed five potato chips near the middle of the table.

Mary blew out the candles nearest her and leaned back in her chair to consider her cards once more.

"I'll see you," she said before adding a dramatic pause and throwing a mischievous smile at Marshall, "and I'll raise you an honest answer."

"You can't do that," Charles protested.

"I think she can," Marshall pointed out distractedly as he peeked at his cards, "It's her bet and we said no limits."

"No limits to the amount of chips," Charles' voice contained a hint of frustration that Mary wasn't playing by the rules.

"We didn't specify," Marshall said calmly, "if Mary wants to bet something other than potato chips, that's her choice. You can either match her bet, or fold if it's too rich for you."

"So what's it to be, Marshall?" Mary asked when she decided he was taking too long.

He looked at her, head to one side and eyes narrowed as he said, "You're trying to find out what I got you for Christmas again, aren't you?"

Mary shrugged and kept her eyes focused on her cards.

Marshall smiled at his partner's impatience. "You only have to wait until tomorrow to find out..."

"Wanna bet?" she asked with a challenging look and smug grin.

Marshall stared at her a long while, pretending to contemplate her bet just to irritate her. When she started shifting in her chair, betraying her impatience, Marshall finally spoke.

"I'll see your truthful answer."

Marshall looked at his dad expectantly. Charles was staring at the table.

"Dad? How many cards do you want?" Marshall prompted.

"One," Charles replied sullenly.

Marshall pushed a card in his direction and looked at Mary.

"Two, please," she said with false sweetness in her voice.

Marshall gave her the requested cards and said, "Dealer takes two."

No one, not Mary or Marshall, nor the observing Ellen and Sandra, was surprised when Charles folded on his next turn.

Mary rolled her eyes at Marshall and placed her bet. Marshall matched it and they locked eyes over the table.

"Ladies first," Marshall said in a serious tone.

Mary fanned her cards out on the table and looked at him, grinning smugly.

Five hearts looked up at them.

Marshall cocked an eyebrow at her, saying, 'that all you got?'

He flipped his cards over and helpfully separated them into two groups, one with three nines, the other with two twos.

"Hmmm...What _shall_ I ask?" he muttered as he pulled the pile of chips toward himself, snagging one chip and eating it as he did so.

Mary glared at him.

"Shall I ask about my Christmas present? Hmmm...No, I think I'll wait _like everybody else_."

Mary huffed and glared harder at him.

"Ask where her engagement ring is," Ellen suggested helpfully, having not been able to get a straight answer out of Mary when she had enquired about its absence that morning.

"No, I know where that is," Marshall replied, bailing Mary out from having to come up with a story to cover the fact that she'd given in to Raph's demand that she return the ring to him.

Something in Ellen's suggestion reminded Marshall of something he'd been meaning to ask for a while. Something about lost things...

"No," he drawled slowly, "I think I'll ask; what _exactly_ happened to your mom's dogs?"

Mary leant back and slow smile spread across her face. She shrugged, "I honestly don't know. I guess, at my party, _someone _left the back gate open and they got out." She shrugged again. "What happened to them after that, I don't know. And who that someone was, I couldn't possibly say."

Marshall chuckled. He'd always suspected Mary had had a hand in the disappearance of Jinx's dogs, but had never had any evidence with which to confront her. He passed the deck of cards to his dad and indicated he should deal.

xxx

"Hey, Ellen, can you take over my hand for a moment?" Mary asked.

"Sure," Ellen replied as she scooted around the table to take Mary's place.

Mary stood and walked around the table on her way out the room, earning her a puzzled glance from Marshall. She ignored him and pulled the kitchen door closed behind her, not wanting the coming conversation to be overheard. She loitered in the hall until Sandra emerged from the bathroom.

Sandra looked up, surprised to find Mary standing in the hall, blocking her path.

"Hey," Mary greeted.

"Are you waiting for...?" Sandra gestured toward the bathroom.

"No," Mary shook her head, "You actually. Look, I don't know what your problem with me is, but get over it. I know you don't approve of partners sleeping together, but Marshall and I are both single, so it's not hurting anyone and..."

"You really think that's why I don't like you?" Sandra asked. She glanced around then gestured for Mary to join her in the living room.

"Yeah, I have a problem with partners getting together, but I'm a grown woman, I can separate the past from the present. No, my problem is that you're not suitable for Marshall."

Mary was stunned into silence. Any thoughts of previous doubts about her own suitability vanished the instant Sandra spoke. On being told she couldn't, shouldn't be with Marshall, there was nothing she could think of that she wanted more. A little voice in the back of her head whispered that it wasn't _all _due to her contrary nature.

Sandra saw the look of confusion on Mary's face and read it as disbelief. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you two work well together. These sort of..._partnerships..._always start that way. But you don't have the...qualities...I'd like to see in my future daughter-in-law."

"And what qualities would those be?" Mary spat.

"I'd like Marshall to be with someone that puts him first. Someone that looks after him. Someone that doesn't take advantage of him."

Mary couldn't believe what she was hearing. She didn't know which criticism to answer first, so she focused on the last one.

"You think I take advantage of him?" she asked, incredulous.

"I think he's more invested to this relationship than you are and yes, you take advantage of that. It's Gemma all over again."

"How dare you! He's my best friend! I would never hurt him like that."

"But you don't deny that he's more invested than you?"

Mary shifted uncomfortably and stared at the floor, "I have doubts sometimes. And commitment issues," she said quietly, in a rare moment of honesty.

"I thought so. I can see it in the way you are together."

Mary looked up questioningly, anger temporarily forgotten.

"You never touch him. He always initiates contact and he bends over backwards to please you, yet you never do anything for him."

Mary couldn't deny the accusation.

"I'm just not sure what Marshall is getting out of this relationship," Sandra said with a sigh. "Still, it's his choice to make. I just wish..."

"What?" Mary asked, instinctively knowing that whatever Sandra had been about to say was the real crux of the matter.

"I just wish he'd chosen someone with a less forceful personality."

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like to see him with someone that doesn't overrule his every decision, someone that lets him make his own mind up and doesn't make him give up on what he wants just to make her happy. I can't see you doing that. And that's no fault of yours; it's just how you are."

Mary felt her anger grow again but pushed aside the criticism to ask, "Why is it so important to you that Marshall stands up for himself?"

"He never has. Even as a kid, when it was his and Ellen's birthday, we'd have to ask Marshall what he wanted to do first. If he already knew what Ellen wanted to do, that's what he'd tell us he wanted. It didn't matter if he'd had another idea, or something else he wanted to do. We always ended up doing what Ellen wanted," Sandra reminisced before coming back to the topic at hand. "I'd like to know that if he's ever in a situation like I was, he wouldn't let himself be walked all over."

"You mean with Charles' affair?" Mary clarified, anger slowly smoldering over the fact that Sandra obviously thought she would cheat on Marshall.

"Yeah. If I'd been a bit stronger, I might have had the courage to leave him. But I let him convince me to stay. I just don't want Marshall to..."

"He's stronger than you think," Mary said with quiet certainty, thinking of his ultimatum that any further sex between them would be as part of a relationship not just for her convenience.

Sandra huffed, "You don't know him like I do."

"What the hell do you know?" Mary spat, the last thread of control on her temper snapped by Sandra's comment. "You haven't seen him for seven years! How the hell do you know what sort of man he's become in that time? Do you even know that he got shot last year? Did you even care enough to find out if was okay in all that time?"

She paused long enough for Sandra not to answer.

"That's what I thought! You're right; you are a push over. What sort of mother are you that can allow her husband to tell her not to see her son? Oh, I know you've _tried_ to talk Charles round," Mary's voice dripped in sarcasm, "but how hard did you actually try? Did it never occur to you that even though Charles is an ass and wants to cut his son out of his life that you don't have to? Did you call him? Did you pick up the phone even once? Or does Charles have that much control over you?"

Mary turned away, disgusted with Marshall's mom. Before she left he room she looked back over her shoulder and warned, "Don't you dare tell me I don't know Marshall."

xxx

An out of place noise woke Mary up.

She didn't realise at first what had woken her, she just attributed it to the fact she was cold, pulled the bed covers up around her shoulders and tried to go back to sleep.

But something wasn't right.

Something was missing.

She cracked open her eyes and lay in the dark listening to the sounds of the night.

She and Marshall had gone to bed after declaring a draw on the poker-front. They'd been the last two playing. Their hands had held no interest for the rest of Marshall's family, who had slowly drifted back into the living room once they were out, leaving Mary and Marshall playing cards in the kitchen.

They'd played on long after Ellen had bid them goodnight; Marshall had insisted on playing hand after hand, like a little boy determined to stay up as long as he could. As the evening had worn on, Mary had noticed a subtle change in his mood and tactics. Gone was that playful banter and flirtation that had marked their first few hands. She noticed he bluffed less too, preferring to play the odds and the cards in his hand, happy to take his chances. Mary hadn't been sure, but she had felt like he was playing with one eye on the clock for the last hour of play. She had wondered why he kept playing when he didn't seem to be having fun. She had tried to lighten the mood several times and Marshall had responded in his normal playful way, but only for a moment before refocusing on his card or glancing at the time.

Suddenly, at midnight, he had called it quits and hustled her to bed, saying Santa wouldn't come if they weren't tucked in like good little girls and boys. Mary had made a note to ask Ellen in the morning if there was some Mann family Christmas tradition that demanded they stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve. Although she couldn't see why Ellen wouldn't have stayed up with them if that was the case.

Now, as Mary lay awake and cold, she realised that Marshall's steady breathing was absent. She turned over to face his side of the bed and saw that Marshall was missing, the bedroom door, left ajar, not providing much of a clue to his whereabouts.

She felt between the sheets on his side of the bed and found they were still warm. Wherever he had gone, he hadn't been gone long.

She recalled another night when she'd woken up alone only to find Marshall in with Ellen as he talked her down from a nightmare. Thinking something similar had happened tonight, she lay staring at the ceiling and waited for him to return.

She glanced at the clock; 1.12 am.

She sighed as she realised it was officially Christmas Day. And on the tail of that thought came another: Marshall was probably downstairs putting presents under the tree. She grinned as the image of tall, lanky Marshall in a Santa costume crossed her mind. She certainly wouldn't put it past him to dress up as Santa.

'This I've got to see,' she thought, still grinning as she slid out of bed, hoping to catch Marshall in the act.


	72. To Catch a Sneak

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 72 – To Catch a Sneak**

"And where the hell have you been?"

Marshall instantly identified the voice as Mary's. He closed the door quietly behind him and peered around the dark hallway, trying to spot his interrogator.

"Well?" she demanded, allowing him to locate the source of her voice and identify a patch of lightness as Mary's hair as it cascaded over her bare shoulders.

He sighed heavily, partly at the realisation that Mary had once again forgotten to tie her hair back before she went to bed, but mostly because he knew that there was no way out of answering her question.

Mary had awoken alone and crept downstairs thinking she'd find Marshall putting her present under the tree. She'd been surprised when she hadn't found him in the living room and had briefly searched the house, listening at bedroom doors, to make sure he wasn't there. On her return to the living room, as she had passed through the hall, she had noticed the deadbolt on the front door was unlocked.

Curious, she had sat on the stairs to await Marshall's return.

Slowly curiosity had given way to worry which had quickly morphed into anger. Unfortunately for Marshall, that had been when he had chosen to return.

"I'm waiting!" she hissed, reminding him that he still hadn't answered. "I'm waiting for you to explain why you're sneaking back into the house at half past two in the morning. I'm waiting for you to tell me where the hell you've been, what the hell was so important that it needs to be done at 2-freaking-am and I'm waiting to find out why the first I knew of any of this was when I woke up alone!"

Mary had stood up from her position on the bottom step and had punctuated each point with a step toward Marshall until she was standing toe-to-toe with him, glaring up at him as she poked him in the chest.

Marshall glanced round the dark hall once more, peering up the stairs for any sign of movement. He grabbed the finger Mary was poking him with and used it to drag her into the kitchen. He closed the door behind himself and pressed his ear against it for a moment, listening.

Mary was intrigued by his actions, her anger diminishing slightly as curiosity reared its head again. Just where had Marshall been? And why all the secrecy?

Finally Marshall was satisfied that they were the only ones awake and turned to her where she leant against the sink.

"Before I start, I just want to remind you that people are sleeping," he said, knowing that his words would be forgotten once he told he where he'd gone.

Mary stared at him, an expression on her face halfway between a glare and puzzlement.

"I went to see Gemma," Marshall revealed then stood back to wait for the explosion.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You what!"

Marshall winced at the volume of her exclamation and the tone it carried. He hoped that the walls were sound proof enough to contain most of the coming conversation at least.

"I went to see Gemma," he said again.

"I heard you, you jackass, I just..." Mary shrugged, throwing her hands in the air to indicate her complete loss for what to say.

She stared at him for a long minute, trying to process the information. The shock had rendered her unable to think clearly and distracted her from her anger. But slowly, as the revelation and its implications sunk in she felt her anger grow and meld with her hurt until she could look at Marshall no longer.

She folded her arms across her chest, a defensive posture, as the betrayal really started to cut into her. She spun to look out the window, not wanting Marshall to see how much the idea of him sneaking off into the night to meet his ex bothered her, only to have hers and Marshall's imaged reflected back at her.

She watched him watching her.

"Why?" she finally whispered, her voice almost cracking on the word.

"I had to see her again," Marshall said, knowing it was pointless to even try to hide the truth, and not wanting to lie to Mary.

"I had to see her again to tell her that I wanted nothing to do with her anymore," he continued softly, moving to stand closer to Mary.

He'd been toying with the idea of seeing Gemma again since Mary had told him about the change of plans regarding the Christmas vacation. Once he had learned that the holiday would be spent in DC with Ellen, rather than at his parents' house, he hadn't been able to get the idea out of his mind.

At first he had dismissed the idea as silly and a waste if time – what would be the point of reopening that wound? But the idea had taken root and had grown, being water by first Ellen inquiring about them meeting Gemma then his mom's questions about the demise of the relationship. He had known for sure that afternoon that he need closure and to say goodbye to that part of his life if he ever wanted to move forward with Mary. But he hadn't been able to think of a way to explain that to Mary. He had rehearsed the conversation in his mind as they were playing cards, always aware that the plan he had devised for the meeting had a critical time component, hoping that he'd be able to find the correct words in time. He hadn't and rather than risk a reprise of their previous fight about Gemma, he had just waited until Mary was asleep and snuck out the house. He realised now that probably wasn't the best decision he'd ever made as now he faced an already irate Mary and still had no way of explaining to her why he had gone.

Still he had to try or risk losing Mary and once he started speaking he found the words followed out of him in a tumble.

"I wanted to tell her that I need a woman who isn't just interested in appearances, someone that actually cares about other people and genuinely acts in their best interests, whether or not they ask for her help. Not someone who only does what is expected of them in order to maintain appearances."

As he was speaking, Marshall moved to stand directly behind Mary. As he finished he let his hands come to rest on her bare shoulders and slip underneath the thin straps of her tank top.

"And just where are you planning on finding a woman like that?" Mary asked with as much snap in her voice as she could muster while surreptitiously wiping away a errant tear.

Marshall rolled his eyes, amazed that Mary could be so oblivious when it suited her. Through the reflection in the glass he gave her a pointed look.

"I'm sure I'll find someone that fits the bill," he half teased when he was sure she'd got the point.

Mary was the first to look away.

"That's what I wanted to tell her, anyway," Marshall said with a sigh of defeat, "but I couldn't be that callous."

"What did you actually tell her?" Mary asked suspiciously.

"I told her that I want someone who truly respects me and wouldn't cheat on me. Someone that loves me, for me, not for what I could get them."

Mary didn't say anything for a long while, just stood there staring into the blackness and letting Marshall caress her arms. Her anger had seeped away as Marshall explained his reasons. She understood what he was telling her, even if he didn't come out and say the words directly – he had chosen Mary over Gemma. If Mary wanted him, he was hers and she wouldn't have to compete with the memory of a past girlfriend and a dead relationship.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going? I would have come with you."

"I needed to do this on my own, Mare. I needed to be sure that it was the right decision. That it was my decision. I wanted to say goodbye to her in my own time and in my own way."

"And you couldn't do that in the daylight like a normal person?"

"I don't know where she lives anymore," he told her, seemingly at random, before explaining, "but she always used to go to midnight mass at St. Matthew's Cathedral so I thought I'd go and see if she was there. That's why I waited until now."

"What did she say when you told her?"

Marshall shrugged and slid his arms around Mary's waist, "Not much. She seemed surprised that I went to so much trouble just to say goodbye."

Mary waited, knowing there was more.

"I don't know, I thought she'd be more upset," he continued. He barked a short laugh devoid of any humour, "How's that for ego? I thought she'd be _sooo_ upset that I didn't want her anymore." He paused then amended, "No, I didn't. I just thought that she was serious about her offer to get back together. I thought there'd at least be some emotional response from her. I see now that you were right, she didn't really want _me_, only to take advantage of me, to use me," his voice became morose with the realisation that he had bought into Gemma's lies once again.

Before he could sink too far into depression, Mary shifted in his arms and the movement forced him to stop to consider the entirety of the evening and the fact he was now standing in Ellen's kitchen with his arms wrapped around Mary. He felt his self pity disappear.

"Still, I don't want _her_ either, so it worked out well in the end," he said with no hint of recrimination.

"Good," Mary said with a tight smile. "She doesn't deserve you."

"No, _she_ doesn't," Marshall admitted, finally accepting it as true and placing a kiss on Mary's shoulder.

"Nor do I," Mary shifted uncomfortably and eased away from Marshall slightly.

He stared at her a moment, at once amazed and unsurprised that Mary could think so little of herself.

"Whether you do or not," he began, resigning himself to the fact that changing Mary's opinion of her self worth would be an ongoing project, "you've got me. I've made my choice and I don't give up what I want easily."

"Your mom thinks you do. She thinks you put everyone else's needs before your own and that I take advantage of that...of you. Just like Gemma does...did."

Marshall chuckled once he realised where she was coming from, "You're nothing like Gemma. You don't use me for your own purposes and if you take advantage of me, it's because I let you. I want you to be happy and if I put you and your happiness first...well, that's just what love is."

"Is it?" Mary asked, thinking that if that was the definition of love then it explained why she let her family walk all over her. But as she thought that, she wondered if she'd ever put a man's needs before her own. Only one example sprang to mind: hours searching on the internet, looking at places to live in DC, just so she was prepared in case Marshall had decided to transfer there.

They lapsed into silence for a while as their thoughts spun in different directions.

Marshall broke the silence, asking, "When did Mom tell you that, anyway?"

"I talked to her earlier," Mary told him, expanding as she saw his puzzled expression, "when you were playing poker, we had a...err...chat..."

"What did you say to her?" Marshall pounced, instantly wary.

"Nothing," Mary lied.

"Mare," Marshall growled.

"I might have told her that she had no clue about you anymore and not contacting you just to keep Charles happy was a piss poor reason to not talk to you."

"Mare," Marshall said again, sighing this time, "I asked you not to make a scene..."

"I didn't!" Mary cut in, "I was having a civilized conversation with her until she accused me of..." she just stopped herself from saying 'not loving you' and ended with, "...not being good enough for you."

"Oh, please, you wouldn't know a civilized conversation if it bit you on the ass," Marshall teased, not noticing her slight pause and easily believing that what had started out as a normal conversation would have turned nasty the instant his mom had implied Mary wasn't good enough for him. Despite her own insecurities, when confronted with a direct attack on their partnership, Mary would always go on the defensive and launch a preemptive strike.

"So what else came up in this tête-à-tête?" Marshall just had to ask.

Mary thought for a moment, recalling the conversation. "She thinks you're weak," she told him with a sardonic grin that showed him her opinion on that matter, "She thinks you don't have the strength to stand up to me. I wanted to tell her that you won't let me have no-strings-attached sex with you, as an example of how wrong she is, but I couldn't find a way to work it into our current..." she tailed off as she began contemplating their relationship once again.

"Charade?" Marshall supplied when Mary failed to come up with a suitable word to describe their situation.

"Yeah."

"Audrey Hepburn's got nothing on you," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

"Huh? Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charade – stared Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant as they both try to track down a missing fortune. Throughout it, Grant's character has several identities as he lies to Hepburn in order to stay a step ahead." Marshall spouted instantly, rolling his eyes as Mary's blank look remained even after his explanation, "Have you seen any movie made before 1980?" he asked sarcastically.

"Don't know," Mary replied, "When was Die Hard made? On second thoughts, don't answer that, I don't care and don't have time for 'Influential Action Movies and Their Impact on the Perception of Law Enforcement' as narrated by Marshall Mann."

Marshall grinned, "Do you have something better to do, then?"

An image of Marshall on top of her, buried deep inside her as she wrapped her legs around him flashed through her mind. She resolutely pushed it away until she had chance to think about the personal revelation she had made tonight and how Marshall's decision to choose her over Gemma changed everything. All her reservations, all her logical reasons why she couldn't have a relationship with Marshall had disappeared in a single stroke and it scared her to death.

Marshall saw the spark of desire in her eyes and was disappointed when she said, "It's almost 3 am. I want to go back to bed. I don't want you keeping me up with inane trivia. It's bad enough that I'm up at this time because of you in the first place," she teased him, before turning serious, "Seriously, let me know next time you go sneaking out in the middle of the night...I was worried," she admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Marshall said, "I'll try not to do it again."

Mary nodded sharply, accepting his promise. "Let's go to bed."

Marshall grinned and led the way out the room, a night in bed with Mary was something he'd never pass up – sex or no sex.

He looked back when he realised Mary had paused at the bottom of the stairs. She stood with one hand on the banister and a scheming look on her face as she said, "Unless you want to give me my present now." When she got no response, she pouted and added, "It _is_ Christmas, after all..."


	73. Civil Rights

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 73 – Civil Rights**

Mary awoke with none of the excitement of a little girl.

She opened her eyes a crack, realised what day it was and promptly closed them again. She felt Marshall's warmth on her back as he curled around her. His arm was slung carelessly over her waist but it held her securely against his bare chest. The warmth of human contact and the realisation that it was Christmas morning was enough to make Mary want to go back to sleep, hopefully only waking when the day was over, but she had always been cursed with the fact that once she was awake she was awake.

She sighed loudly and instantly regretted it as she felt Marshall's arm tighten around her indicating that her small noise and movement had woken him.

She lay still, waiting for some other sign or further movement to confirm that he was awake.

When the arm didn't relax after a moment, Mary whispered, "Marshall?"

There was a slight pause before he replied, "I wasn't sure if you were awake."

He started to disentangle himself from Mary but found the process hindered when she grabbed his wrist and held it, and him, in place.

"Don't," she whispered.

For a heartbeat Marshall froze, unsure what to make of her sudden reluctance to let him go. Then he relaxed and returned to his previous position deciding to let the scene play out and see where it took them.

They lay, with Marshall's body moulded around Mary's as he pressed his chest to her back, in silence for a few minutes until Marshall's discomfort at not knowing what was going through Mary's head forced him to speak.

"You puzzle me sometimes," he said as an opener, knowing Mary wouldn't be able to resist the follow up.

"Hmmm...?" she responded drowsily.

She hadn't fallen back to sleep as she knew she wouldn't, but she had reached a level of comfort where moving her mouth to form words wasn't worth the effort.

"All week you've been bugging me about what I got you for Christmas, yet Christmas morning, when you can legitimately open your present, you show no interest in getting out of bed. What gives?"

Mary shrugged - that seemed like less effort than talking but after a moment realised that Marshall's patient silence demanded more.

"In my experience, the anticipation of the present is generally better than the actual present," she told him, then added quietly, "If there is one."

With her economical words, she painted Marshall a picture of Christmases where the toys she had been promised, had maybe even seen as she snooped through her parent's bedroom, had never materialised. He suspected that there had been years that she had gone without, either because of her parent's inability to provide anything or because she had forgone a present so that Brandi could have one. He may not know all the details but suddenly her dislike of surprises made that much more sense. He thought of the present he had hidden in Ellen's room to stop Mary finding it.

"Hey, Mare," he said, pulling her attention back to him, "I got you a ring."

"What?" she snapped, surprised that Marshall would give up the secret suddenly after protecting it all week. The fact he had bought her a ring was a whole other matter...

"I got you a ring. And I don't want you to read too much into it and freak out. I don't want you to think I'm pushing you into anything with this," he gestured vaguely to where they lay, still entwined.

"Why would I freak out, Moron?"

"Oh, please, Mare. You're the queen of commitment-phobia. But I don't expect anything from you – the ring doesn't mean anything. I just thought I'd replace the one Raph gave you, as he asked for it back."

Mary lay silent and sceptical until she felt the need to point out, "Raph gave me an engagement ring."

"I know," Marshall replied, "and if I thought you wanted an engagement ring, I would have got you one."

"What makes you think I don't want one?" Mary asked, instantly defensive at the insinuation that anyone would assume they knew her well enough to know what she wanted, even if it may have been justified in this case.

Marshall was surprised, "You've never expressed any interest in marriage. In fact, you've always been openly contemptuous of those that were. That's why I was so shocked that you agreed to marry Raph."

Mary considered this a moment then asked, "So your reaction that day had nothing to do with your feelings for me?"

Marshall didn't move a muscle but she felt him completely tense as if ready to spring into action at any instant.

"You know?" he asked in a strangled whisper.

"I began to suspect a couple of days ago," Mary said hesitantly, recalling the moment she had linked the news of her engagement and Marshall crawling into the bottle. "And you just confirmed it," she added with a hint of smugness in her voice.

Marshall relaxed slightly. The fact she had only realised recently reassuring him. But his over-active mind had already provided him with the rest of the conversation had she known all along - "_Why didn't you say anything?" - "I didn't see the point. I don't feel the same..." - _The words may have been imagined but the hurt and anger they brought felt real and remained even after he had logically rejected the words.

"How long?" Mary asked.

Marshall just shrugged.

He suddenly felt the need to keep something, some part of himself, back as insurance. Plus, how could he put a time and date to the moment he had fallen in love with her anyway?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mary asked, unwittingly echoing the words he had imagined.

Marshall knew he wasn't going to be able to avoid answering and, like any animal when they feel cornered, came out fighting. Scorn and sarcasm were his weapons of choice and he laced his words with them, "It's not exactly an easy thing to work into conversation, 'Our witness' security's been breached, we have to move them now and by the way I love you,' or maybe I should have phrased it as, 'Have you filled out that S1–11 or even considered the possibility of dating me?' What would you have said? Or done?"

Mary considered his point, facetiously made, but accurate none the less.

"You had the opportunity to be with me..." she began.

"No, Mare," Marshall interrupted, knowing where she was heading, "I had the opportunity to have sex with you. I don't want that. Not on its own. I want this," he gestured again to their relative positions, "and I'm prepared to wait to get what I want."

"You could be waiting a while," Mary warned, "I can't promise anything."

"I know. But when you're ready, I'll still be here. That much _I_ can promise _you_."

xxx

Mary was still in the shower when Marshall left the bedroom to find his dad. He located him in the other guest room.

Charles looked up when he realised he was no longer alone. Seeing it was Marshall loitering in the doorway, he quickly dropped his eyes back to the tie he was just about to do up.

"Hey, Dad," Marshall greeted.

Charles remained silent.

Marshall sighed and ploughed on, "You like Mary, right?"

Charles glance up again and Marshall took the brief eye contact as a yes.

"Well, in that case, can we put aside our difference just for today and be civil?" Marshall asked.

Charles smoothed the tie down his front and decided he was satisfied with it. He looked at Marshall again and wondered where his son was heading with his seemingly unrelated questions.

"Why?" he asked sceptically when he realise Marshall wasn't going to say anything else without his participation in the conversation.

Marshall ran a hand through his hair and sighed again as he said, "Mary didn't exactly have a conventional upbringing and I thought it would be nice is she could experience one Christmas as part of a normal family. I know that might be asking a bit much right now, but we were a normal, loving family once and I just want to return to that for one day. For Mary's sake. You can go back to sniping at me or ignoring me or whatever tomorrow."

"You want me to do what, exactly? To lie? To pretend the last seven years didn't happen? That you never...?" Charles asked pointedly.

Marshall stared at the floor. "I just thought...For Mary...You like her..." he muttered.

"It may be acceptable for your witnesses to live a double life, to lie to their loved ones constantly, but I bought you up better than that - better than a criminal," Charles spat venomously.

"I'm not asking you to lie," Marshall said, ignoring the barb about his choice of career, "I just want you to be civil. I know Granddad bought you up to know how to be polite. Even when you can't stand a person. You were polite to your boss for years even though you thought he was an idiot. Can't you extend me the same courtesy? Imagine I'm your boss," Marshall tried to end on a joke, but it fell flat.

Charles glared at Marshall before stalking out the room, brushing past Marshall with more force than necessary as he walked through the doorway. Marshall steadied himself by taking a step backwards, bringing him into the hall just as Mary emerged from the room across the hall.

She looked at Charles' rapidly retreating back, the stiff set of his shoulders telling her he was pissed and she'd missed something important. She looked to Marshall for an explanation and only got a shrug in reply.

"You look nice," he said, wanting to forget the last few minutes and being aided in his task by the sight of Mary's bare legs extending from the bottom of the knee length skirt she was wearing.

"Thanks," she said distractedly, still wondering what had gone on between Marshall and his dad.

She finally gave up on trying to work it out. It would either become apparent or not through the course of the day. She turned back to Marshall and saw his eyes were firmly affixed on her legs. She almost succeeded in hiding her triumphant grin, but didn't quite manage as the corners of her mouth tweaked in response.

"You look pretty good yourself," she said, realising that it was true – his suit fit him well and the shirt and tie accentuated his eyes perfectly.

Marshall had warned her that his family dressed more formally on Christmas day and that was how she had justified packing the skirt to herself. Brandi's suggestion that she wanted to wear it to seduce Marshall had been resolutely ignored but as Marshall's gaze roved over the rest of her body, Mary wondered if her sister was right. How else could she explain the exceptionally uncomfortable lingerie she was currently wearing?


	74. Have Yourself a Mary Christmas

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 74 – Have Yourself a Mary Christmas**

Charles was alone in the kitchen when Mary entered. He was staring out the window at the cold grey December morning, but turned to glance over his shoulder when he heard another person in the room. Mary caught his eye and nodded slightly taking a moment to notice the bags under his eyes and the weariness in his posture. In that moment he looked very old and sad.

"The others are in the living room. I think they're about to open the presents," he said, wanting to be alone for a few more minutes before having to face his family.

"You okay?" Mary asked, ignoring his attempt to get rid of her.

He turned slowly to face her, studying her face to measure the sincerity of the question. "Yeah," he finally sighed as he turned back to the window.

Mary regarded him, understanding that he wanted to be alone but not giving in to his wishes, unlike the rest of his family. She moved to stand next to him, joining his surveillance of the deserted road outside the window.

"What happened this morning with Marshall?"

"He asked me to be civil to him." He paused. "Can you imagine – having to ask your dad to be civil to you? And it wasn't even for his sake. It was for yours. He'd never ask for himself. He's too stubborn and proud."

"I wonder where he gets that from?"

There was a long pause, a battle of wills, with Charles trying to ignore Mary in the hope she would drop the subject and leave. Mary waited patiently for Charles to respond and when she realised that he wasn't going to, probed a little bit more.

"You know that Marshall doesn't even know what this is about," she said quietly.

Charles stared at her incredulously.

"He knows something happened on that JPATS flight," Mary explained, "he's just not sure what it was he said or did that made you disown him. Of course, I'm not convinced he said or did anything wrong. I think you misunderstood or just took offense and rather than back down, you split this family apart for the last seven years. What sort of man does that? What sort of father?"

Charles ignored Mary's pointed questions and muttered, "I wonder if this has got out of hand."

He took Mary's silence to mean she thought it had. He turned to look back out the window.

"I just don't know how to mend it..." he admitted.

"You could do as your son asked and be civil to him today. That would be a start. And tell him what it was that started all this. Then give it time. There's no miracle fix for these things," she told him gently.

"I can't just back down. He'd lose all respect for me."

"I hate to tell you this, but he doesn't have much respect for you right now," Mary pointed out, fed up of the tactful approach in the face of such obstinacy.

Charles shook his head sharply, not to disagree with Mary but to emphasise an internal point. Mary wasn't even sure he had heard her comment as Charles continued muttering thoughtfully to himself, "I can't let him think I'm going to forgive him just because he asked me to."

"He didn't ask you to forgive him..." Mary ground out, getting more and more frustrated with the stubbornness of this man and the fact he wasn't paying any attention to her or her advice.

She was interrupted, however, as Charles continued his musing, "He has to work for his forgiveness."

"What the hell did he do that was so bad?"

Charles once again seemed oblivious to Mary's scorn and rising anger and didn't answer as he murmured to himself, "But maybe it's time to start...Maybe..."

Mary shook her head, bewildered by the fact that she was obviously witnessing Charles Mann's internal running dialogue, but now at least hopeful that he was starting to come round. She decided her presence was unnecessary to his decision making process and turned to leave the room. But as she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw the old, lonely man that she had seen when she first entered the room.

For a moment she almost felt sorry for him and couldn't stop herself asking, "Are you coming? They're opening the presents..."

"I'll be there in a minute," Charles replied, still lost in thought.

xxx

When Charles entered the living room a few minutes later the floor was already strewn with discarded wrapping paper.

Ellen and Marshall had reverted to child status as they sat on the floor near to the pile of presents under the tree. They both looked up as Charles entered and Mary was struck once again by the resemblance between them.

Charles smiled a tight smile and said, "You started without me."

"Well, you were taking _forever_," Ellen whined, exaggerating like an impatient six-year-old.

"What have you got?" Charles asked, nodding at the unwrapped gifts on the floor, as he took a seat next to Sandra.

"Marshall got me a cookbook," Ellen said, holding it up.

"What about you, Marshall?" Charles asked.

Marshall looked up and stared at his dad. He shot a quick look in Mary's direction before he answered, "You and Mom got me a subscription to _Scientific American_."

Charles nodded his approval.

A weird silence descended as both men struggled for some way to continue the conversation but found the gulf was just too big. Ellen was swift to break the silence and distract everyone's attention from the two men.

"Mary, you're next," she said, rummaging under the tree.

"I still don't understand why we have to do this alphabetically," Mary grumbled as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"It's tradition," Marshall told her.

"It's insane," she shot back.

Marshall grinned, not disagreeing with her, but once again enjoying the idiosyncrasies of a Mann family Christmas after years without.

"Hey, it's better than the year we decided to go by who had the best shot," Ellen said.

"No it's not!" Mary declared. "Why can't we do that?" she asked, excited by the prospect.

There were groans all around at the memory of that particular year.

"Mom won't let us," Marshall said sulkily with a dirty look in his Mom's direction.

"Why not?"

Charles chuckled, "Because she was the last to get her presents that year and dinner was late as it took us so long. We set a minimum limit and couldn't move on to the next round until we'd all shot within the black," he explained cheerfully, much to the surprise of the other occupants of the room who had got used to his sullen, silent presence.

"Okay, so I wasn't as good a shot as these three," Sandra admitted, "but at least I was a more graceful loser. And that wasn't why it took so long - you should have seen these three argue about...oh, just about everything! They argued over the results of each round, how to measure the distance to the center, whether it should be from the edge of the bullet hole or the middle. They argued about how many missed shots we were allowed before we had to forfeit a present. They argued about whether you could use both hands or not. By the end of the day I was just so sick of all the arguments, I banned them from using that method again."

"Oh, please, you were just upset coz you kept getting beat by two sixteen-years-olds and were the last to open your presents!" Ellen corrected jokingly.

Sandra didn't deny the charge, just pointed out, "You'll notice, Mary, that I didn't complain when Ellen decided to go alphabetically today, even though S is towards the end of the alphabet."

"And your Mom's shot has improved a lot since then," Charles added.

"Seriously?" Marshall asked his mom.

"Yeah, I got fed up being the only one in the family who couldn't shoot straight so I started practicing. Your dad and I often go to the range. It gives us something to do together," she said with a private smile in Charles' direction.

"Your mom's on the ladies seniors team," Charles told Marshall proudly.

"So then next year we can go by who's the best shot?" Mary asked, suddenly hoping that she'd be invited to next year's event if Marshall and his dad managed to build on the start Charles had made and forgive each other.

Marshall looked at her askance, wondering if she realised that she had just invited herself to another Mann family Christmas when her presence could only be explained if his family thought they were still together. It wasn't like Mary to make a slip like that, but he had noticed that she had been distracted all morning, not being able to sit still for more than a couple of minutes without fidgeting.

"We'll see," Sandra answered Mary in true parent fashion. "Either way, it's your turn to open a present."

Mary took the present that Ellen was holding out to her and glanced around the room, suddenly nervous as she realised all eyes were on her as she tore the wrapping. She didn't know if she was supposed to rip into it with abandon or take her time and saviour the anticipation.

Marshall moved off the floor and joined her on the sofa, subtly slipping an arm around her as he watched over her shoulder to see what she had got. His eyes lit up as he read the label on one of the bottles in the gift box that Mary had unwrapped. Massage oil. He didn't see any other label as his mind got hung up on those two words.

As Mary unpacked the box she read the labels of the various lotions. Bubble bath, body lotion, something called a beauty elixir, massage oil, some expensive looking hand cream and a couple of other things she'd need to read the instructions for before knowing what to do with them.

She looked over at Ellen who was grinning at her.

"For when you can't get to the spa," Ellen explained. "Marshall mentioned that you can't get them to book you in anymore since you keep canceling at the last minute. Well, if you can't go to them..." she shrugged, sympathising and conveying, 'what you gonna do?'

Mary opened the hand cream and smelled it before testing some. "It's great, thanks. Now I just need enough time to actually use all this and I'll be set," she said with a genuine smile.

Ellen relaxed, relieved that Mary had liked her gift. She hadn't been easy to buy for and only the chance remark from Marshall and a vague recollection of a conversation about saunas and spas had offered her any guidance.

As Mary continued to study the bottles and long for the moment she could use them, Charles handed Sandra her gift which was quickly unwrapped and admired by all. The alphabetical system meant that Mary had to wait until Charles had opened a present and Ellen a second one before she could give Marshall his rather spontaneously picked present.

She handed it to him with a half smile, still unsure about it and now also concerned about what his family would think about it.

She needn't have had any reservations about Marshall's response as his eyes lit up the moment he worked out what it was. After a few seconds reading the box and looking at the picture, he ripped into the box with abandon, eager to assemble his latest toy. The rest of his family looked on, intrigued by Marshall's silent yet fervent need to get at whatever was in the box.

Finally, Ellen could bear the anticipation no longer and asked, "What is it?"

"It's an alien abduction lamp," Marshall told her with glee.

"A what?" Charles asked, sure he had misheard.

"An alien abduction lamp," Marshall reiterated. "It's a lamp shaped like a UFO beaming up a cow." He waved the box in his dad's direction, his eyes never leaving the parts he was studying.

Marshall didn't notice Charles and Sandra exchange a puzzled look as he slid back onto the floor to spread out the parts of the lamp prior to assembly.

"Do you want to give Mary her next present?" Ellen asked dryly, "We could be here all night if we have to wait for you to finish playing with that before you hand out the next present."

Marshall looked up from the instructions, "Huh? Oh, yeah okay."

He started to rummage beneath the tree, missing Mary mouth to Ellen, 'He reads the instructions?' and Ellen's answer of a nod and a pained look. He emerged with a small box that Mary instantly knew contained the ring he had told her about that morning.

Their eyes met as he turned to hand it to her and the rest of the world faded away. He may have said it meant nothing, but Mary knew Marshall and she knew it wasn't in his nature to make an offering like this lightly. Slowly she reached out to accept the box, noticing he broke eye contact before she took the ring from his hand as he realised he was kneeling on the floor in front of her. He smiled when he looked back at her, trying to find humour in the parody of the traditional proposal that was being played out.

Mary's eyes, however, were on the box in her hand. She started to unwrap it with trepidation and finally uncovered the velvet box that she knew lie within. She glanced up and saw Marshall watching her intently, his worry that she would reject his present written clearly on his face. Not wanting to make him suffer the uncertainty any longer than necessary, she snapped the box open with a swift movement and found her breath instantly stolen away by the sight within.

It wasn't gaudy, like Raph's had been, it wasn't as big or as expensive looking, but Mary knew that this ring was already more precious to her than any other. This one came with no strings attached. Although Marshall had thoughtfully provided a slim gold necklace so she could wear it around her neck where it wouldn't get in the way.

Marshall still had worry in his eyes when she managed to tear her eyes away from the ring to look at him.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking on the words.

Marshall relaxed and the spell was broken, aided in no small measure by Ellen clamouring to see.

Mary handed her the box which caused much 'Ohh'ing and 'Ahh'ing as Sandra moved to have a look as well.

"I thought you already had an engagement ring?" Ellen asked as she tilted the box so the ring would catch the light.

Marshall snorted his amusement, "I got the other one out of a Crack Jack box. I didn't expect her to wear it as long as she did."

"Wow, you must have eaten a lot of popcorn to find that," Ellen joked as she handed the ring back to Mary who quickly slipped it out the box and onto her finger.

There was never any doubt that it would fit her, yet the ring slid onto her finger with a familiarity that surprised Mary. She hadn't realised how much she had been used to wearing an engagement ring until that moment. Trust Marshall, she thought, to know what she didn't, to know her better than she knew herself and to provide her with what she needed before she even realised that she needed anything.

Mary spent the rest of the morning stealing glances at the band on her finger while the others were occupied with exchanging presents.

Marshall noticed Mary fidgeting and glancing at the ring periodically throughout the day, but didn't say anything. He was just relieved that she appeared to like it, he'd deal with the fact she was wearing it on her left digitus annuláris later.


	75. Overhear and Under Where

**AN: ** Thanks to Josie for paying attention to the little details. Hopefully I've resolved that hiccup in this chapter to your satisfaction. And, as usual, thanks to Roar for her opinions whenever I'm struggling to make a decision.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 75 – Overhear and Under Where?**

"Lets see it again," Ellen said, causing Mary to groan and hold out her hand for yet another inspection.

Ellen took Mary's hand in hers and twisted it this way and that to get a better look at the ring that sat there. Mary couldn't help smiling at the other woman's obsession with her 'engagement' ring, all the while not unaware of the fact she was enjoying the attention it was receiving.

'Is this what it's supposed to be like?' she wondered as Ellen muttered something about her brother's excellent, but never-before-seen taste in jewellery.

Ellen may have thought that the ring was a genuine engagement ring, but Mary knew the truth – Marshall had told her that morning that the ring didn't mean anything. But during the course of the day, Mary had come to realise that Marshall was wrong.

The ring did symbolise something - a promise – like his family thought it did. It just wasn't the promise to become husband and wife, the way they thought. Instead it represented the promise that Marshall had made to her that morning. It represented every promise he had ever made to her. And kept. It represented the promises to take her for lunch if she did her own paperwork, the promise he made to her sister, on her behalf, that she'd be there for Thanksgiving dinner, the promise he made to his witnesses that he would keep them safe. The promise that he wouldn't quit. And most recently, the promise to wait for her until she was ready for a real relationship with him.

Mary had warned him not to hold his breath, but the more she thought about it, she realised that had just been a reflexive response, one of her witty comebacks uttered without thought. She may never be ready for the whole husband, kids and white picket fence deal, but she had become more willing to take a chance on Marshall over the last couple of months. She'd spent the last few days having to keep reminding herself of all the reasons not to, of all the ways she could get hurt, to stop herself from jumping him and unintentionally initiating a relationship. But he'd unknowing destroyed each reason, one after another over the years of their friendship, until there was only one real reason left – Mary's fear of abandonment. And he was slowly eroding that as well. His definitive rejection of Gemma and the ring, a symbol of his promise, had shown her that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

All she had to do was take that leap...

"...Mary. Mary?" Ellen called. "Are you okay? I lost you there for a minute."

"Sorry, I was thinking about your brother," Mary said with a small smile, letting Ellen read as much into her statement as she wanted.

"Wow, I never thought Marshall would make anyone go all gooey-eyed over him," Ellen teased.

Mary slapped her arm lightly, "I did not go 'gooey-eyed'!"

"Oh, you so did! You should have seen the silly smile on your face," Ellen shot back.

"That wasn't a smile," Mary tried to defend herself and her reputation, "that was a grimace."

"Yeah, sure," Ellen said, disbelieving her.

"Trust me, it was a grimace and you'd be in pain too, if you had the underwear that I'm wearing on."

Ellen looked up intrigued, "So you're wearing the good stuff, are you? Did you know what he was getting you?"

"If by good stuff you mean expensive and uncomfortable, then yes. But I don't see what Marshall's present has to do with it...?"

"I wondered if you were planing on rewarding him for his excellent taste. Or was it an early Christmas present?"

"It was more a present to myself a couple of months ago, although Marshall's none-to-subtle fascination with them did influence my choice..."

xxx

In the hallway, Marshall stood with his mouth open.

He had just overheard Mary tell Ellen that she was wearing the lingerie she had bought all that time ago and that she had chosen it because of him.

The image of the black thong shot through with silver had never been far from his thoughts as he drifted to sleep at night. But the look on Mary's face as she caught him trying to sneak a peak at the checkout and the idea that she had bought them because he had liked them, had been too convenient to make more than a guest appearance in his fantasies. He liked his fantasies to at least be based in reality, but now he was finding that he hadn't imagined that look and it was unleashing all the images of Mary that he had successfully repressed until that moment.

He couldn't stop himself, his mind conjured up an image of Mary laying on the bed in nothing but the black thong, beckoning to him. As he struggled to draw a breath, the image shifted to Mary sitting on his lap and he could almost feel her soft skin under his hand as he slid his hand up her leg, slipping it under the hem of her skirt, caressing her thigh all the way up to the holster she always wore in his dreams. Another painfully hitched breath and his mind spun again, providing him with the image of Mary on top of him, leaning forward to whisper in his ear as she rode him, her hair a cascading curtain around him.

He reminded himself to breathe.

His mind was brought back to reality by the sound of his sister's voice and he struggled to focus his attention back on the conversation.

"Don't tell me he has good taste in lingerie, too," Ellen bemoaned. "It's just too cruel for me to be _related _to the one good man out there!" She thought for a moment, then added, "You know women are supposed to be attracted to men that remind them of their dads, that have the same qualities etc, but I seem to have spent my life looking for one that measures up to my brother's example."

Out in the hall, Marshall heard Mary's snort of disbelief at Ellen's statement and was relieved when she said, "Marshall's nothing like my dad. At least from what I can remember of him. Plus, Marshall's stuck around through some pretty tough times. That's more than my dad ever managed..."

"Yeah, he's always been reliable. Even in the middle of our worst fights as teenagers, he was always there for me, whether it was sticking up for me or listening to me moan about a teacher or just handing me Kleenex whenever I fell out with a friend or boyfriend," Ellen said.

"Yeah, same here," Mary agreed quietly.

In the hall, Marshall didn't see the change in Mary's posture from defensive to decisive, but Ellen did and her comment carried to Marshall's prying ears as she laughed, "Oh, yeah, he's definitely getting lucky tonight!"

xxx

Mary grinned back at her, confirming Ellen's declaration.

Unbeknown to the two of them, Marshall had silently left the hall having heard enough to keep his mind occupied for days.

Ellen smiled. "While you're at it," she added, "thank him for my pumps, will you? I know they're supposed to be from both of you, but I very much doubt you know my shoe size..."

Mary scoffed, "Please, I barely know where the shoe store is and if I'd picked them, you'd have got a pair of work boots or something you could run it at least. Those don't look at all practical. Or comfortable."

She looked once more at the pumps as Ellen twisted her ankle this way and that to show off the second present from Marshall, the one that had supposedly been from Mary as well.

"I have lots of boots like that," Ellen said, still admiring her new shoes, "but sometimes it's nice to have something completely impractical but pretty."

"Is it?"

"How else do you explain your underwear?" Ellen asked, puzzled by Mary's scepticism.

"As a sadistic desire on the part of male fashion designers to use as little fabric as possible in as uncomfortable ways as possible, displaying their complete ignorance or disregard for female anatomy as part of their need to cut material costs while making us suffer, all so that we can feel less of a woman if we eschew their unrealistic expectations of what it is to be sexy and feminine as we invite them to a fantasy that we can never live up to in real life, leading to them being constantly disappointed and frustrated and us getting hurt when they try to find perfection elsewhere," Mary said, barely pausing for breath.

Ellen stared at her when she had finished and realised that Mary had finally let her guard down around her. That this was the Mary that Marshall saw. The one that, when she was comfortable enough with someone, could go off on a rant about anything.

"But it's still damn sexy," Ellen said with a shrug, dismissing Mary's complaint the way her brother would.

"Frustratingly, it is," Mary agreed, causing them both to laugh.

xxx

Mary hovered in the doorway to the living room and watched Marshall.

He was alone in the room. But sitting next to him on the sofa was the small plastic cow from his alien abduction lamp and Marshall appeared to be having a conversation with it.

"That guy there," Marshall told the cow, pointing to the TV to illustrate who he meant, "he's secretly in love with his best friend. But she's doesn't know how he feels about her."

"Am I interrupting?" Mary asked, entering the room and making Marshall jump.

"No, I was just explaining the basic premise to Joanna, here. She hasn't seen it before."

Marshall went to move the cow so Mary could sit next to him, but she stopped him before he picked it up. She chose a rather unconventional way of stopping him - grabbing his arm as it moved to pick up Joanna, then sliding onto his lap.

She excused her action, whispering huskily into his ear, "I wouldn't want to disturb Joanna."

Marshall froze, unsure what she was doing. He didn't want to make any assumptions about the conversation he'd heard and risk loosing an arm, or worse, through an inappropriately placed hand.

As Mary snaked an arm around his shoulders, he relaxed slightly and decided he probably hadn't misinterpreted the snippets he had overheard. He let a hand come to rest lightly on Mary's knee, just to hold her in position of course.

"Comfortable?" Marshall enquired.

"Yeah," Mary sighed.

Marshall relaxed some more and pulled Mary slightly more tightly into his arms when it was obvious that she wasn't intending to move any time soon.

"Have you had a good day?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's been nice. Almost like a normal Christmas."

"Your normal, or other people's normal?"

"Both. The last couple of days have been like my normal Christmases, but today has been good."

"Yeah, Dad's obviously been visited by the spirit of Christmas. I can't think what else has changed his attitude toward me," Marshall said with a penetrating glare at Mary that made her squirm slightly.

"He may have been visited by the spirit of Albuquerque WITSEC, but if he was, he ignored any advise she may have offered," she confided.

Marshall sighed, "Well, whatever has caused his change of heart, lets hope it keeps up. Although I'm not sure I'm ready to just forgive and forget seven years of silence the instant he starts talking to me again."

"You don't have to," Mary assured him, "If he's serious, he'll understand and give you time."

"Yeah," Marshall said, not fully convinced his dad was serious about reconciliation anyway. He changed the subject. "You feel relaxed," he noted, stroking her back as she leant against him.

Mary looked at him and ran a quick mental check of her state of wellbeing.

"I am," she confirmed, not feeling the need to say more as she and Marshall fell into one of their comfortable silences.

The break from her family, in itself, was enough to allow her to step down from her constantly tense and ready-for-a-fight state. And the cessation of hostilities had lightened the atmosphere in the Mann household significantly, even Sandra had mellowed toward her, so she was enjoying spending time with Marshall and his family. As for Marshall himself, finally coming to a decision had released a lot of the tension she'd been carrying without even realising it.

For the first time in a long time, she felt happy and carefree.

The laughter track filled the silence in the room and Mary glanced at the TV. Marshall didn't laugh with the studio audience, though.

"That's got to hurt," he said, empathizing with the guy on the TV as he was introduced to his best friend's latest in a string of dead-end boyfriends.

Mary could no longer claim ignorance of the similarities to their situation and it pained her to think of all the times Marshall had been through something similar as she discussed her love life with him. Love life – now there was a misnomer for what she and Raph had had. She was beginning to realise she couldn't refer to anything in her past as a "love life". She hadn't even understood the term until recently.

Now, hearing the suppressed pain in Marshall's voice as he obliquely acknowledged all the time he had spent loving her without her realising, she sought something to mitigate the woman's actions and maybe redeem herself in the process.

"Perhaps she's just trying anything she can think of to get his attention?" she suggested.

"What - like wearing lingerie?" Marshall asked.

Mary looked at him askance, wondering if he knew exactly what she had on under her skirt. She was just returning her attention to the TV, telling herself that there was no way he could know, when she felt his hand slide slightly higher up her leg. His thumb began to caress the inside of her thigh and she brought her gaze up to meet his. The desire in his eyes was covered by a thin veneer of knowing smugness that was so completely Marshall that she couldn't help but laugh.

The movement of his thumb stopped as he looked at her, wondering what she was laughing at. His puzzlement caused her to laugh all the more until she collapsed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck, giggling away. Marshall rested his hands on her back to support her position as her body rocked with her laughter. He smiled, happy to see her so happy, even if he didn't know the cause of her laughter.

When she finally stopped, he continued to hold her and she swept her fingers though his hair, surprising him with her tenderness. He had thought, when he had overheard her and Ellen, that she was just horny and he'd won the Mary lotto by being the nearest available male. But as she leant forward and placed a hesitant kiss on his lips, he was forced to reconsider.

He wasn't given long to reconsider as she kissed him again, shifting slightly to get a better position and inadvertently drawing his attention away from a logical analysis of what he had heard as his mind focused on the sensations in his body. The kiss was longer, but still hesitant as if she wasn't sure she was doing it right.

When she pulled away, she looked at him questioningly. He smiled at her, tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and let his hand come to rest on her shoulder. She unnecessarily repeated the movement, moving an imaginary lock out the way, a gesture Marshall recognised as one she made when she was unsure.

He waited for her to make the next move.

A noise in the hallway made Mary glance in that direction and, suspecting their solitude was about to come to an end, whisper hurriedly, "Shall we go to bed?"

Marshall glanced at the clock.

"It's not even eight," he noted.

Mary shrugged. "So? No one will mind," she tempted.

His mom's voice in the hall made his mind up for him.

"Okay," he agreed.

They stood and Mary took his hand, drawing him out of the room and toward the stairs as the rest of his family emerged from the kitchen. Marshall made eye contact with Ellen who grinned knowingly at him, making him blush slightly.

Mary, however, had no such shame and declared, "We're going to bed. Goodnight, everyone."

Marshall said nothing, but noticed his dad glance at his watch before Mary's insistent tugging on his arm made him move. She lead the way confidently up the stairs but dropped his hand as they crossed the threshold to their room. Marshall watched her as she crossed the room and looked out the window for a moment before drawing the curtains. When she turned back to him, there was a hint of doubt on her face.

"Mare?" he questioned gently, inviting her to confide in him.

"I'm not sure how to do this, Marshall," she said with a self-deprecating smile.

"Do what exactly?" he attempted to clarify, "I know you've had sex before. With me, in fact."

"I don't know how to do this the way you want it," she admitted. "The way it was the first time we..."

Mary tailed off so Marshall supplied the words for her, "Made love?"

"Yeah," she said, once again tucking hair behind her ear.

Marshall took a step towards her.

"Say it, Mare."

She looked up at him then away quickly.

"I hear admitting it is the first step in getting help," he attempted to joke as he continued to move slowly towards her.

Mary stared at her feet until Marshall's feet joined them in her line of vision. He was so close to her, but didn't reach out to touch her as so many others would have.

"Say it, Mare."

She looked directly into his eyes as she said, "I want it to be like the first time we made love, but I don't know how."

"Let me show you."


	76. Getting Shirty

**AN:** I've posted the extended version of the previous chapter for anyone that's interested. It's chapter 3 in my other, M-rated story, _Albuquerque, we have an extended scene_. You don't have to have read it to enjoy this chapter, though.

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 76 – Getting Shirty**

Marshall woke up feeling more relaxed than he had in possibly years, but certainly the last few days.

He took a deep breath and stretched as far as the weight of Mary's still slumbering form pinning him down would allow. Her head was resting on his chest and his movement made her stir enough that Marshall could feel her breasts pressed against his side all the more clearly.

He stroked her back slowly, attempting to wake her further and bring her to arousal at the same time.

Last night the tension and strain of the last few days had taken their toll on Marshall as he had sought a quick release in Mary, being surprised that she had let him and feeling somewhat guilty after. The roles had been reversed shortly after as Marshall obeyed Mary's every wish as she rode him with wild abandon, seeking her own release. It was only once both their urgent physical needs had been satisfied that they had been able to slow the pace and intensity and enjoy the gentle love making that Mary had requested of him.

He felt Mary's hand twitch as she came more awake.

'Ever ready to shoot something,' he thought with a grin.

"What's so funny?" she murmured, sensing his amusement.

"Nothing," he said as he shifted his hand to caress her breast.

"Marshall," she growled into his chest, making him pause as he tried to figure out if she was warning him about his actions or his unexplained amusement.

She looked up sharply at the cessation of his touch, and like a cheetah stalking its prey, lithe and dangerous, crawled up his body to where his still smiling mouth lay seemingly oblivious to approaching attack.

Mary's kisses were slow and lethargic, reflecting her relaxed mood on waking. Marshall responded willingly, letting his hands roam over her body as he returned her kisses.

Mary pulled away suddenly, she hovered above him and swept her hair over her shoulder, out of the way, and regarded him intently. Marshall thought she was about to say something, but then she appeared to change her mind, just smiling at him and returning to kissing him.

Marshall stopped her and asked, "What?"

Mary shook her head and tried to kiss him again.

"Mare?" he pressed.

"I was just thinking, I could get used to this," she said.

Marshall knew that that wasn't what she'd intended to say, but also recognised it was close enough to the truth that he didn't push her any more.

Ellen's voice came through the door, interrupting the kissing that had resumed as Marshall attempted to give her more reason to repeat the events of the previous night.

"Breakfast in twenty," she called.

Mary paused again, then before Marshall knew what had happened, there was cold air where Mary had just been.

"Huh? What the...?" he muttered as he watched Mary's naked form disappear into the bathroom. He stretched and rested his hands behind his head.

"Mary?" he called into the other room.

"What?"

"What just happened?"

Mary stuck her head round the door. "Didn't you hear Ellen? Breakfast's almost ready."

"So I just got dropped for pancakes?"

Mary looked at him as if he was crazy for even asking.

"Just so I know where your priorities lie," Marshall said.

Mary grinned at him.

"Food," she said, indicating a level with her hand. She raised her hand slightly, "You." She raised it again, "Ellen's cooking."

"Duly noted," Marshall muttered and closed his eyes, feigning sleep until Mary emerged, freshly showered, from the bathroom.

xxx

Marshall towelled dry his hair as he stepped out the shower. He looked into the steamed up mirror at his obscured reflection and allowed himself to see hope for the first time.

Last night Mary had come to him, asking to be loved. There was no way she could claim she didn't know what she was doing. She couldn't hide behind a broken engagement with angry accusations, she couldn't hide behind a late night or a long day and she couldn't hide behind alcohol. And neither could he.

They had both been stone cold sober when Mary had initiated the kiss although Marshall had quickly become drunk with her.

They had both known exactly what they were doing last night and now he allowed himself to hope that last night would be a foundation on which they could build a relationship after so many false starts over the last couple of months. Marshall had spelled out and made perfectly clear that any further sex between them would be as part of a relationship not a one time or causal thing. And still she had come. And so, as he started at his blurred outline, he allowed himself to hope.

"What you doing in there, Pretty Boy?" Mary's voice called out, eliciting him to hurry in a way only she could or would.

He picked the damp towel off the side and stepped into the bedroom, drying off his arms and back as he went. Mary was already dressed, but he saw the flare of desire in her eyes as she took in his form.

He smirked at her. "Really, Mare? Again?"

She ignored his comment and said, "Ellen said twenty minutes. How long were you in there?"

Her eyes lingered on his body as she spoke and he knew that she was calculating whether they could be quick so she wouldn't have to choose between food and sex.

She tore her eyes away from his body to glance at the clock and realised there was no time if she wanted her breakfast hot. She turned back to Marshall who was grinning at her, having done the same calculation that she had.

"What's it to be, Mare?" he spread his arms, offering her an unobstructed view of his body.

Her gaze raked across him as she tried to make a decision.

In the end, food won.

She finally tore her eyes back to his and ordered, "Hurry up and get dressed."

Marshall reached over to pick up the shirt she had given him yesterday and started to remove it from its packaging as Mary left the room. Before she closed the door, she stole one last look at Marshall's bare back, letting her eyes drift down to, and linger on, his ass in a way she had never permitted herself when he was just her partner.

With a self-satisfied smile, she pulled the door closed and headed down to breakfast.

Marshall slipped the shirt over his shoulders and started buttoning it. He knew that the day's dress code was traditionally informal in his family and that a shirt and tie would contrast sharply with Mary's jeans and t-shirt, but he didn't care. Mary had bought him a shirt and he wanted to wear it.

He wanted to wear it to remind himself that this was actually happening, that he hadn't dreamt it – that Mary really had made love to him last night, had bought him a present that screamed 'boyfriend' and had not run away this morning.

In fact, he suspected that she had been close to admitting she loved him, before chickening out. He smiled as he anticipated the struggle he was going to have to get her to voluntarily tell him what he longed to hear and would cherish all the more for its scarcity. It was a battle he looked forward to, with a prize to cherish.

xxx

"Are you sure you can't stay longer?" Ellen asked as Mary sat, impatiently drumming her fingers on the table top.

Ellen had lied about the readiness of breakfast, hoping to get Mary and Marshall out of bed so she could maximise the remaining time with her brother before he and his fiancée left that evening.

"No, we have to get back. It's a busy time of year for us and I think if we stayed any longer Marshall would end up killing someone," she mentioned no names, but it was obvious who she meant.

"I thought he was handling it okay." Even without inflection, Ellen's words were a question.

Mary thought back to the night before.

"He's not as okay as he'd like everyone to think," Mary concluded after a moment's thought. "I think if it was a constant silence, always being ignored, he would be coping better. But the shifting from barbed remarks to being completely ignored, then back to 'normal' is keeping him too off balance."

The women lapsed into silence as they struggled to think of a way of resolving the feud between Marshall and his dad and contemplated the affect it was having on Marshall.

In the silence, Mary quietly admitted, "I'm getting worried about him. His emotional control is slipping."

Ellen sighed, "My brother, the master at hiding his feelings until the moment they get away from him and he erupts."

Mary said nothing, just nodded slightly with a troubled look in her eye that told Ellen she had seen him erupt and take his anger out on whatever, whoever was nearest. Ellen understood then that Mary had seen the coil of darkness in her brother and hadn't run away. She was confident that Mary could deal with her brother when he was in one of his moods and the fact that Marshall had permitted Mary to see him angry spoke volumes.

"Yeah," Mary finally agreed, bringing Ellen back to the conversation, "I've tried to convince him to be more like me and vent a little, but he never does..."

Ellen smiled at Mary's attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, you take it too far the other way," Ellen's genuine and open smile took the sting out the words. "The pair of you are a perfect match. He could use some of your directness in his life."

Mary found it a pleasant change that, for once, someone was seeing what Marshall got out of their relationship, rather than only seeing enough to ask why he stayed.

"Speaking of the direct approach," Ellen said, "I don't suppose you could have a word with Dad, shake some sense into him?"

Mary smiled and shook her head. "It won't do any good coming from me," she explained, "He needs to hear it from Marshall. And Marshall needs to be the one to tell him."

Ellen sighed in agreement and let the subject drop as she heard her dad coming down the stairs talking to someone. Mary recognised the sound of her partner's footsteps in the hall and knew who Charles was talking to.

Before Marshall could push open the kitchen door and enter, Mary threw a quick comment in Ellen's direction, "Plus, I've already tried."

Ellen stared at her at her admission as Marshall came into the kitchen, giving Mary an enquiring look that indicated he had heard her comment. She shrugged at the pair of them and watched as Marshall rolled his eyes with half a shrug in his dad's direction; a silent conversation.

Charles continued his conversation with Marshall, oblivious to the communication going on between him and Mary.

"...thanks to Pierre de Coubertin that they're included in the Olympic Games," he finished telling Marshall.

"I know all that, Dad. I just wanted to know what Mom's average at the range is," Marshall explained patiently.

Charles went to answer, but something stopped him. Knowing how competitive his son was, he suddenly saw an ulterior motive behind Marshall's question. Rather than him just showing an interest in his mom's life, Charles suspected that Marshall was only asking so he could compare his own scores and lord it over her later. He wasn't going to have that.

"Well, if you're that interested, perhaps you should call more."

The mood in the room instantly shifted at his criticism, everyone bristling at his tone and the atmosphere became heavy with anticipation as Mary and Ellen sensed things were about to come to a head between Marshall and Charles. Their finely honed, law enforcement based intuition for knowing when trouble was brewing was accurate as they watched Marshall draw breath and mentally count to ten.

"Morning Dad. Hey, looking sharp there, Bro," Ellen said overly cheerfully, trying to defuse the tension.

"Yeah, I thought you said today was informal?" Mary noted, suddenly feeling scruffy in her jeans and t-shirt.

"It is," Charles confirmed. "But Marshall never misses an opportunity to show people he's better than them."

Marshall didn't know what it was about _that_ comment.

Whether it was the words themselves or just the timing of them, coming so close after his night with Mary - his proof that putting himself first got him what he wanted. Maybe it was the fact that over the last few days he'd been ignored, belittled or none-too-subtly criticised, always on his dad's timetable, his dad's schedule so that Marshall didn't know from one minute to the next whether his attempts at conversation would be dismissed or well received. Perhaps it was the build up of all of that coupled with his dad's treatment of him over the last seven years. Years in which Marshall had bent over backwards to try and mend the riff and when that had failed, complied with his dad's wishes and stayed away.

Whatever it was, Marshall had had enough and finally snapped.

"Just what the hell is your problem?" he yelled, startling everyone in the room with his volume and vehemence.

Mary wasn't entirely surprised that Marshall had finally had enough, but the suddenness of the switch from calm to angry caught her off guard as much as Charles' shift from friendly to hostile had, mere moments before. Charles obviously hadn't sensed Marshall's frustration building over the last few days as he just stared at Marshall, his surprise at his son's sudden outburst written clearly on his face.


	77. Fighting the Good Fight

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 77 – Fighting the Good Fight**

"You've never been happy since you found out what branch of USMS I'm with," Marshall accused in the stunned silence caused by his previous outburst.

Mary was silently egging him on, willing him to give his father what for and stand up for himself for once. Ellen, likewise, was struggling to hide her sneaky grin at her brother's new found belligerence. Mary suppressed a chuckle as Charles continued to stare at Marshall in surprise, resembling a fish as he opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again with a sullen glare at Marshall.

She moved to stand next to Ellen so she wouldn't be in the direct line of fire, but would still be in a position to support Marshall if he needed it. Plus, Ellen had a better view and Mary didn't want to miss anything.

"Why is that?" Marshall asked his dad sharply, aware of Mary's silent encouragement and subtle redeployment. "Do you just hate WITSEC inspectors so indiscriminately and so much that you can't even make an exception for your son?"

In the pause that followed, Charles finally managed to find his voice.

"It's not about that..." he murmured, avoiding eye contact with Marshall.

"Well, what is it about then?" Marshall demanded, "Coz it sure seems strange to me that it was only after I ran into you on that JPATS flight that you stopped talking to me."

Aware that he had an audience and not wanting to have this conversation at all, Charles felt his anger grow and suddenly the words were tumbling out of him.

"Do you know how humiliating that was? To have my son turn up and outrank me?"

Marshall cut off anything else Charles may have been about to say, astounded by what he had already heard.

"So that's what this is about?" he asked incredulously. "The fact that I outrank you? That's why you haven't spoken to me for seven years?" He shook his head at the pettiness of it. "Well, I've got news for you, Dad, Ellen outranks both of us. Hell, she probably outranks half the CIA and FBI, too. Are you going to cut her out your life too? Or is that a special pleasure reserved for me?"

"Ellen's never given me a direct order in front of my friends!" Charles yelled.

"But if she did, then you'd stop talking to her?" Marshall snapped back instantly.

"Hey, leave me out of this!" Ellen put in, from her vantage point near the sink.

"Careful, Ellen, you might want to phrase that as a request, just to be on the safe side," Marshall's sarcasm cut deep.

"It isn't about you ordering me around," Charles corrected.

"Isn't it? You just said it was," Marshall pointed out the contradiction, scorn hiding his puzzlement.

"You ordered me to release the guy I'd spent six months tracking down!"

"So we're back to the hatred of everyone in witness security. Or is it the fact that your son is the one returning criminals to the streets?"

"You're the only one in the family for whom catching criminals isn't enough! You've always thought you were better than the rest of us. I know you never wanted to join the Marshal Service and only did to satisfy your need to prove you're better than me!"

Charles had advanced on Marshall as he spoke so that they were toe-to-toe, eye-to-eye.

Out the corner of his eye, Marshall saw Mary bristle at the criticism and she moved to react to the implied physical threat. He spared her a glance and was reassured to see Ellen laying a restraining hand on her arm.

Ellen's gentle restraint didn't stop her muttering, "He _is_ better than you."

Mary's words took the edge off Marshall's anger as he realised his partner was as ready as ever to back him up. He permitted himself a small smile and took a step back to put some more distance between him and his dad before verbally rounding on him once again.

"I've never needed or wanted to prove I'm better than you, Dad. Where did you get that idea from?" he asked genuinely.

The calmness in Marshall's voice only served to provoke Charles more.

"Where did I...WHERE DID I...!" he spluttered, "I'll tell you where! All those years I spent training you and you never once expressed any gratitude, you took it all for granted..."

Marshall crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, having heard it all before. He leant against the back of a chair – the very image of relaxed to anyone that didn't know him.

"Even now, you don't appreciate just what an advantage it gave you..." Charles continued muttering, ignoring the bored expression on Marshall's face, "You never even tried..."

Marshall burst out laughing. But it was a fake, humourless laugh, a more cutting bark of contempt than anything Mary had heard from him before.

"I never tried?" he spat. "Oh, I tried alright, Dad. You have no idea how hard I tried to live up to your impossible standards. You have no idea how often I practiced the techniques, how much time I've spent at the range over the years. Of course, because you never saw it, it can't have happened. But no matter how hard I tried, how much I practiced, it was never enough! Is it any wonder I stopped trying to please you years ago?"

Marshall paused as something occurred to him.

"That's what this is about, isn't it?" he asked. "That's what you realised on that JPATS flight, that I've chosen my own path. That I stopped trying to emulate you. That your opinion, while important to me, no longer defines me. In short, that I've grown up."

Charles stayed silent and stared at the floor guiltily.

"Why does that bother you so much?" Marshall asked quietly.

"You could have been so much more," Charles whispered hoarsely.

"Am I really that much of a disappointment to you?" Marshall asked, obviously hurt.

"I never wanted you to spend your whole life as a mid-level Marshal, like I have," Charles explained. "I wanted more for you. I wanted you to get the promotions I never got and get a nice, safe desk job. Something where you're not on the front line all the time. I just wanted you to be safe and happy."

Marshall was amazed at what his dad was telling him. All these years he had assumed that his dad's impossible standards were his attempt to make sure Marshall didn't disgrace the family name, to mold him into something he hadn't wanted to be at that time in his life. It had never occurred to him that his dad's relentless training schedule and high expectations were all to make sure he was properly prepared for what could be a dangerous job. All these years, he had allowed his resentment to cloud his judgement.

"That's why I pushed you so hard," Charles continued. "That's why I spent so much time training you, so that you could be fast tracked through the system. To keep you safe."

"It worked," Marshall murmured, slightly abashed, "Just not the way you intended. I can't count the number of times your training has got me, and Mary, out of a tight spot. For that, I thank you. But I never wanted a desk job. I enjoy what I do too much..."

Charles didn't seem to hear him, or just ignored the enlightenment that was dawning with Marshall and the partial concession he was now more willing to make.

"That's what I realised that day – that you had chosen to reject everything I had to offer you. And there you were, ordering me around, flaunting all the training I'd given you, but no safer!"

"So, because you thought that I'd rejected you, you rejected me..." Marshall reasoned quietly.

Charles continued talking, not caring if Marshall was listening, "I'd pulled so many strings to get you posted to DC in the hope you'd make enough friends to get early promotion. And what do you do? How do you thank me? You throw it all in my face and run off to join WITSEC!"

The mention of the interference in his life was enough to evaporate any good will Marshall had begun to feel towards his dad.

"I knew it!" he yelled, "I knew you were behind that transfer! How many times did I ask you not to interfere with my career? All I wanted was to make my own way and not trade off the family name."

He threw his arms in the air in frustration at his inability to communicate with his dad. Every time things started looking like they were moving forward between them, it turned out they were. They were just moving forward into an oncoming train.

"Exactly!"Charles snapped, halting Marshall's pacing.

Marshall spun and stared at him, hands laced behind his head as he waited for his dad to explain.

"You had to do everything on your own," Charles said. "You won't accept help from anyone! I tried so hard to give you every advantage. All those years of training, all the family connections, everything I did to make sure you got ahead. All I ever wanted was for you to move up the ladder, you could be a Chief Deputy by now, maybe even a US Marshal if you hadn't been too stubborn to accept help. And not just from me. You had the perfect fiancée for a political career too, I though your life was on track."

Marshall huffed at the suggestion that his life wasn't on track now. "It was, just not the one I wanted it to be on," he muttered.

"If you'd stayed with Gemma..." Charles contemplated wistfully, not noticing the reactions of the other marshals in the room as they flinched at the mention of her name. They never found out what Charles thought would have happened if Marshall had stayed with Gemma as he swung back to Marshall and sneered, "But no! A Senator's daughter isn't good enough for you! Instead, you have to go running around with..."

He didn't mention Mary's name, but the quick shift of his eyes in her direction left no doubt who he was talking about.

At the inclusion of Mary in the fight, Marshall started to visibly shake with rage and his attempt to control it. His hands clenched and his knuckles turned white. His eyes flicked quickly to Mary who was matching his rage and knew he had to get out of there before it came to blows. It was taking every inch of his self control not to just reach out and smack his dad and Mary had much less control than he did. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, the fury shining brightly in his eyes. He turned slowly to face Ellen.

"I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry Ellen, but I'm gonna go," Marshall's voice betrayed the fact he was at the very edge of his control.

Ellen nodded and watched him leave the room to return upstairs to pack the remainder of his stuff.

Mary stood up to follow, but couldn't resist getting a parting shot in.

"Just for the record," she said to Charles, her voice low and dangerous as she leant in close to get her point across, "Marshall is an exceptional man. He's loyal and trustworthy. He's proud of his family history and a person you can rely on in a dangerous situation. I trust him with my life on a regular basis. I don't know how much of that you taught him, but that's who he is. And he's too damn good at his job to be wasting away behind a desk." Mary took a breath and stood up straight. "I'm proud to be his partner and fiancée, but more importantly, I'm proud of him. And maybe if you took the time to notice who he actually is, you would be too."

She turned to Ellen, "It was good seeing you again. _You're_ welcome to visit us anytime."

She spun on her heel, dismissing Charles and left to see where Marshall had got to.

xxx

She found him, as expected, in the guest bedroom they had shared. His bag was packed and sat next to him on the end of the bed. His cell was in his hands, telling her that he had already ordered a cab. He looked up as she entered.

She didn't say anything to him, just started collecting her stuff from around the room. His eyes followed her as she moved from place to place.

"You don't have to leave just because I am," he told her, voice husky, as if on the verge of a break down.

She stopped her packing and stared at him.

"You'd do the same for me," she said. "Plus, it would be weird if I stayed here with your family by myself."

Marshall managed half a grin and Mary returned to her packing. With an efficiency born of years of practice, she was done in a few minutes. She placed her bag on the bed next to his and regarded him a moment. His elbows were resting on his knees, hands dangling between his knees, as he slumped forward staring at the floor. She took a step towards him and rested a hand on his head, causing him to look up.

She ran her hand through his hair and asked gently, "Are you ready to go home?"

He nodded and stood up, catching Mary's hand as it fell from his hair and ran down his arm. He grasped it in his as he leant over to pick up his bag, letting Mary carry her own bag and avoiding the argument he knew he would create if he tried to carry hers too.

She glanced around the room once more, checking they weren't forgetting anything. She was sad to leave the room and the pretence of their engagement behind. But in leaving behind the pretence, she was gaining the opportunity to starting something real with Marshall. She inhaled deeply to suppress the apprehension she felt and concentrate on the excitement that was a hairsbreadth behind it.

Marshall felt her sigh and read it, correctly as always, as readiness to leave. So, with hands firmly entwined, Marshall lead them out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house to the taxi waiting to take them to the airport.


	78. The Final Countdown

**Albuquerque, we have a problem**

**Chapter 78 – The Final Countdown**

Marshall turned as Mary came out onto the balcony of the Sunshine Building.

She triumphantly held up two mugs emblazoned with the star of the marshal service. Marshall rolled his eyes.

"What?" she snapped, "I don't know where Eleanor's stashed the glasses."

"So we're stuck drinking champagne out of mugs on New Years Eve. Really, Mare, you're so uncouth."

"Really?" she questioned, finding secret amusement in his use of interesting or obscure words. "Uncouth?"

Marshall grinned at her predictable response. Maybe her amusement wasn't so secret after all.

"Did you know that champagne was discovered in France but the bubbles were generally seen as undesirable. The interrupted fermentation process causes the production of CO2 gas which is trapped in the bottles and early French wine bottles weren't strong enough to withstand the pressure..." Marshall watched as Mary rolled her eyes, a perfect mirror of his reaction a minute ago.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

Marshall had found in the week since Christmas that challenging Mary to make him shut up often resulted in her kissing him, a snippet of knowledge he was unwilling to share with Mary least it result in immediate cessation of the action.

It was a trick he had discovered the day after they had returned to Albuquerque.

That morning, a plaintive phone call from Mary had summoned him to her house where he had found that Brandi and Jinx had waited for Mary's return before celebrating Christmas. Secretly touched, but a little off balance because of their thoughtfulness, Mary had called for backup. Marshall had instantly abandoned his pile of laundry and driven to her house. Once there, he had found an edgy Mary, who was convinced that the niceness was all a prelude to something bad and that she wouldn't be held responsible for what happened when she found out what her family had done this time.

Marshall had convinced her to give her family the benefit of the doubt and had stayed to celebrate with them and referee when needed. Mary had made a noticeable effort to be nice, so Marshall had quickly realised that his presence hadn't actually been needed, just wanted. The thought had made him relax and settle into the role of boyfriend to the point that neither Jinx or Brandi questioned why he was there.

When he had recalled some obscure fact about the winter solstice to entertain Brandi with, he'd got carried away. His interesting factoid had soon become a full blown discourse on paganism in the modern age that had Mary telling him to shut up. The stupid smile on her face as she had said it, belayed the imperative of her words and he had just grinned back impishly and uttered the words of his challenge.

Much to his surprise, Mary had taken the challenge at face value and had climbed onto his lap and kissed him until he hadn't had any breath left to breathe with, let alone spiel minutia. A quick glance at Jinx and Brandi when Mary dismounted told him that that was also how Mary had chosen to inform them that Marshall's role in her life had been ungraded, judging by the pointed looks they shared and their mildly-amused-but-not-too-surprised expressions.

The rest of the week had been almost normal compared to the Christmas weekend. They'd gone to work, visited their witnesses, Mary had tormented Eleanor and harassed Stan. There had been no crises while they'd been away so they'd been free to settle into their old, yet slightly altered routine. The most noticeable alteration was the morning that Mary was woken by the light of an alien abduction lamp at an ungodly hour and had to restrain the urge to throw it across the room. Marshall had moved it slightly further away from her side of the bed after that.

The ring that Marshall had presented her with at Ellen's had also undergone a slight relocation on Mary's return to work. It no longer sat on her ring finger, but was attached to the chain around her neck with the St Christopher her dad had given her before he had left – the two reminders of promises from the two very different men in her life, good and bad, now hung side-by-side in plain sight.

Eleanor, ever observant, had noticed the new piece of jewelery and mentioned it to Stan - far safer course of action than talking to Mary about it. She felt she had the right to meddle in Mary's life as she had detected that Mary's intervention was behind Stan's unexpected visit on Christmas day. Despite that, a mutual truce was in effect between the two women, with Mary not asking about Eleanor's holiday and Eleanor not directly asking about the sudden appearance of an engagement ring and its unconventional position. So, it had been up to Stan to pull Marshall aside one afternoon and apply his subtlest interrogation techniques while hinting that, while he didn't personally have a problem, officially he'd have to disapprove if anything happened between his Inspectors.

Marshall read between the lines and understood. He indicated that he'd be prepared to fight the bureaucracy if it came to that, but it was still early days and he had enough of a battle on his hands combating Mary's natural aversion to commitment. Stan had smiled, wished him luck and made a note to start gathering dirt on those higher-ups that were likely to kick up a fuss when the inevitable happened and Marshall won his first battle.

Neither marshal had brought up their plans for New Year's, they both just assumed that they would be repeating the activities of the previous year and the year before that, as they had every year since Mary's first year in Albuquerque. Some traditions went without saying.

So, they had spent the day checking on their most at risk witnesses, including the Lerners and Amy, who once again had expressed an interest in becoming a marshal. This was followed by an evening of paperwork until one of them declared their hunger and their traditional squabble over what to have and who was going to pay ensued. Once the food arrived, all thoughts of paperwork had been abandoned and the pair had spent the hours leading up to midnight with their feet on the desk, flicking things at each other and enjoying each other's company in the otherwise empty office.

The first year they had spent New Year's Eve together, it had been spontaneous and they had ended up toasting the new year with the dregs of the coffee pot. Subsequent years, Marshall had stashed a bottle of champagne in the office, just in case. And now, as he recalled the origins and contemplated the interrupted fermentation process that produced champagne, he made a mental note to bring champagne flutes next year.

Mary's thoughts had nothing to do with champagne, however, as she was considering ways to make Marshall stop with the trivia.

She was just about to, once again, shut Marshall up with a kiss when she stopped to think the situation through. The thought occurred to her that Marshall had been spouting a lot more useless information than normal in the last few days. As she took a step toward him, she took in the hopeful gleam in Marshall's eye and realised that she'd almost fallen into his trap. Rather than be manipulated, she just stayed where she was and said nothing.

Marshall returned to pouring the champagne into the mugs, disappointed his ruse had failed and his chances had run out.

He handed her the full mug and asked, "What shall we toast to?"

Mary thought for a while then sidestepped, saying, "Did you know that toasting actually has something to do with bread? The name comes from the custom of flavoring the wine with spiced toast."

Marshall stared at her, dumbstruck.

She grinned mischievously.

Marshall continued to stare at her in awe until she shrugged and said, "I had this conversation with your sister earlier."

Marshall chuckled and returned to looking out over the city as he said, "I think you've spoken to her more in the last couple of weeks than I have in the last two years."

"It's not my fault she prefers me to you," she replied, dismissively.

"It's nice," Marshall admitted after a moment, referring to Mary's growing friendship with Ellen. "Although I'm surprised that you haven't tried to convince me to tell them the truth about us."

"What do you mean? Why should I care if you're lying to your family?" she asked.

"It's just not like you, that's all. In fact it's very un-Mary-like. You have a very low tolerance for BS, so I'm surprised you're letting this go."

Mary huffed, "After meeting your parents, I'm not going to let you meet them alone. What kind of partner would I be if I let you walk into that sort of danger with no one to watch your back? And if I have to go in undercover, so be it."

What Mary didn't mention was that she'd already decided to let Marshall's family believe they were engaged for as long as possible. That way, if they did get engaged for real, all the fuss over the announcement would be over and done with and they could just get on with their lives. She kept telling herself this little plan of hers was only logical and a prudent precaution, but as the idea had occurred to her, she had realised she wouldn't hate the idea of being engaged to Marshall, especially if the real experience was anything like the pretend one.

Marshall's amusement at her sentiment was tangible in the comfortable silence that settled over them. They both leant on the wall of the balcony looking out over the busy town below. Mary couldn't help but contrast the scene below her with her recurring nightmare of being abandoned in an empty city, a nightmare she hadn't had since she'd started sleeping in Marshall's bed. She shifted closer to him, wanting to cling to him like a ward against any further occurrences of the dream that had plagued her since childhood. As she watched the people below her go about their business, oblivious to the surveillance from above, her hand drifted to the ring on a chain around her neck as she reminded herself of the promise Marshall had made her, hoping that was enough to keep the dream away.

Marshall noticed the action and pulled her into an embrace. He had noticed her hand drift there in the last week whenever she was unsure or thoughtful. He didn't know what had caused her sudden shift of mood, but he automatically took steps to ease her discomfort.

As he felt her relax slightly, he reassured her further, in case she was still worried about his family, "It's not an experience I'm eager to repeat."

It took Mary a moment to recall the previous topic of conversation. She knew, at some point, she would tell Marshall about her nightmare, but for now she was grateful for him pulling her away from her dark thoughts.

"Have you spoke to your dad since?" she asked.

"No, but Mom phoned the other day, just to check we got back okay."

Another silence descended as they waited for the firework display to begin. It was part of the tradition, watching the New Year's fireworks together, for free, from the top of the building.

"You never answered my question," Marshall finally reminded her.

"What question?"

"What shall we toast to at midnight? Health? World peace? The President?"

Mary screwed her nose up more at each suggestion.

"Happiness?" he suggested.

Mary half shrugged at that one and tentatively offered a toast of her own.

"Promises kept?"

Marshall stared at her, surprised that she would be the one to suggest such a toast. He noticed her hand was still at her throat, and knew she was still looking for reassurance about something. Suspecting that she was thinking about her dad and his abandonment, he chose a toast to remind her of his recent promise.

"To partnership?" he offered.

Mary smiled and nodded.

They turned to watch the city again, Mary doing her best to ignore the images of her dream by holding on to Marshall's vows not to quit and to wait for her.

"Speaking of promises, have you made any resolutions?" Mary asked.

Marshall pulled himself upright and Mary smiled in anticipation, knowing whatever his answer was going to be, it was going to be good.

"I find there is something rather futile about the whole idea," Marshall began, "No one ever stick to their resolutions for more than a week and I don't believe it's an auspicious way to begin a new year, with a broken promise, so I don't normally make any. But this year I have. And I've embraced the futility of it - I've resolved not to make any resolutions. Unfortunately, the very act of making such a resolution breaks the one resolution I've made."

He smiled happily as Mary laughed at his diatribe, then asked, "How about you?"

Mary considered a moment then shook her head.

"I kinda made mine at Christmas."

He raised an eyebrow in question.

"I promised myself to give this thing with us a go," she explained lightly, not wanting to make a big deal about the resolution that it had taken her a long time to come to, before finally deciding Marshall was worth the risk, "and to try not to let my fear of commitment get in the way. I reckon trying to keep that's enough to last me well into the coming year."

Marshall didn't know what to say in response to hearing Mary commit herself to having a relationship with him. He knew there would still be ups and downs and moments of doubt and insecurity that would make maintaining a relationship with her difficult, but it would be infinitely easier if she was trying too.

Rather than say the wrong thing, he did the only thing he could think of at that moment - he leant forward and kissed her gently.

Mary knew that her promise not to run scared at the first sign of commitment was a babystep compared to Marshall's promise not to leave, but he seemed strangely touched by her sentiment. Surprised and encouraged by his silent response, she took another babystep.

"You know, Jinx has been dropping hints all week that if you wanted to spend more time at our place, or spend the night..." Mary trailed off, leaving the invitation implied but open.

"That's magnanimous of her, considering it's not her house," Marshall hedged, not sure if Mary was offering what he thought she was offering.

"That's what I told her. Although she has a point and I'm sure the homeowner wouldn't mind..."

"Is that so? Huh." His confusion cleared up, Marshall was ready to have some fun of his own.

"What?"

"Is that it? Is that as much of an invite as I get? Where's the pristine invitation, embossed with gold-leaf? What happened to the little niceties of life? When did calling cards and formal invitations go out of fashion?"

"Moron," she pushed him away playfully, "Do you want to stay or not?"

"Best offer I've had all year."

"Well, if that's the best offer you've had all year, you must have had a very disappointing year."

"O contraire, mon petite catastrophe, I've had a very good year, offer-wise," he glanced at his watch, "and as there's only few minutes of this year left, I feel I'm able to say that's the best offer I've had or am likely to get."

Mary thought for a moment and then quietly admitted, "This is the best holiday this year."

Marshall regarded her silently, waiting for her to continue.

"Just the two of us. No family to mess things up," she explained.

Marshall moved to stand behind Mary, sitting his champagne mug on the wall and wrapping his arms around her. He rested his chin on her shoulder and they stood like that as they waited for the fireworks to start.

Securely held in Marshall's arms, Mary turned her thoughts away from her long term future with him and to what they had to achieve in the immediate future.

"So, have you talked to Stan about Amy joining USMS?" she asked.

"Not yet," he admitted sheepishly.

"I can't believe you're taking such a hair-brained scheme to him. What on earth has possessed you? You'll be putting her in danger if she gets in!"

Marshall let Mary rant for a minute about his stupidity and when she finally stopped, said, "You done?"

Mary took a breath. "Yeah. But seriously, Marshall, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that Amy is my witness and she's not even twenty and her life is already mapped out for her. If she wants to change something, to try for something more than a junior receptionist's position, then it's my job to help her."

"What about the fact she'll be in greater danger?" Mary asked again.

"Or, something I learned from Dad - she'll be safer with proper training. It's part of that whole teach a man to fish thing. Plus, marshals do things other than look after witnesses."

Marshall paused and waited to see Mary's response. He wasn't entirely sure he was doing the right thing, but if his plan stood up to Mary's scrutiny, he would know he was on the right track. She didn't say anything, giving his argument some thought.

"I don't think she's got her heart set on WITSEC," he continued, "I think she see us, our partnership, and wants that kind of relationship with someone. I doubt she even desperately wants to join USMS. I suspect she'd be happy with ABQ PD or another branch of law enforcement as long as she had a partner and friend."

Mary considered all this for a long moment and conceded that Marshall's assessment of his witness was probably accurate.

"The marshal service might be best," she concluded, "Marshals have the most knowledge about WITSEC and know not to ask too many questions, so her cover would be safest."

"So, we don't have a problem? You're with me on this, even when I take it to Stan?"

Mary muttered something under her breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, 'No,' - we don't have a problem. And I'll always be with you, even if I still think you're an idiot."

"Good," Marshall said, as the first of the fireworks exploded in the night's sky. "Now, come here and kiss me, it's midnight."

For once in her life, Mary did what she was told and kissed him passionately, intending to start the year the way she hoped it would continue.

In the moonlit Albuquerque sky, the firework display went unnoticed by the two people on the roof of the Sunshine Building. Two people who defied classification, who merged the roles of marshal, friend, family, partner and lover without a problem.

* * *

**AN: **Thank you to all of you that have been following this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you also, if you took the time to review and special mention must go to Kathiann who has reviewed every chapter. Finally, many thanks to Roar526, who beta-d the last third of the story, without whom it could easily have been abandoned at times or caused my laptop to be thrown out the window. She kept me sane, gave me someone to bounce ideas off and stopped me second guessing myself too much, not to mention corrected my errors.


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